


Back With A Madness (Champion)

by Mytay



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: But The Main Point is Team Voltron Worrying About a Certain Blue Paladin, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pining Keith (Voltron), Team as Family, Violence, Who Has Accidentally Joined a Fight Club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-04 00:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 50,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14008002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytay/pseuds/Mytay
Summary: Lance stumbles upon a situation in which he figures that the best solution is to get in the face of a major crime boss, fight in a cage match, and be a hero for a couple of kids who need one desperately. Easy.Except for the part where he's been forced into a week-long membership at this very hidden, potentially lethal fight club — but he cantotallyhandle this. He refuses to be anything less than the hero these people need — and he can do that whilenotgiving away the secret and messing up the diplomatic talks on this world. If it gets really bad, he can always call in his fellow Paladins for back-up, even if it means admitting he (maybe) screwed up.But Lance knows he's gonna stick it out, no matter what, and moreover, he's gonnawin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws hands in the air* IT JUST HAPPENED, I DON'T KNOW?! I have no clue exactly where it's going, but I'm aiming for five, relatively quick chapters, and done? 
> 
> I just had a sudden need for Lance being his usual irrepressible self in the face of terrible, terrible odds, and everybody worrying about him. Also, hurt/comfort, because that's my jam. The slow burn between Lance and Keith is very much _not_ the main focus of this story — mostly it's Lance in pain, Lance lying about said pain, and then our space family doing their best to help him out.
> 
> If that's your thing too, then have fun! Oh, and the title is inspired by the lyrics to **Champion** , by Fall Out Boy.

 

Lance knew how to take a hit.

 

Fighting in many battles, dealing with even more training, growing up skinny and loud with a penchant for taking dares — all this had taught him a thing or two about pain and gain. But in most of those scenarios, Lance had been backed up — by his older siblings, his cousins, his friends, or his teammates. He’d been able to punch back or wisely curl up until help arrived.

 

Here, Lance didn’t really have any other recourse but taking it, alone. Losing on purpose. Because he’d made a promise. A couple of little kids, with stars in their eyes, were depending on him to lose this cage match and rake in the dough for them.

 

Didn’t mean he couldn’t mouth off like hell while getting the crap kicked out of him, though.

 

“Yeah, okay, you ever been to Mervoliga? Little bunny people with tiny fists?” Lance spat out some blood, grinning up at the giant brute, a fighter named De'Kroa, native of the recently liberated planet Ga'Ulin. De'Kroa fought with broad hands and a tangible temper.

 

“You need me to hit you harder, boy, is that what you’re asking?” De’Kroa snarled, looming over Lance by several heads.

 

“I’m saying you’re a fluffy bunny, DK. It’s cute, really.” Lance winked. Or he would have, if a brick-sized fist hadn’t just sent him to the mat.

 

The match was over a few seconds later. He had put up a good enough fight, dragged it out for a while, and no one suspected he’d deliberately lost. Probably because the struggle wasn’t  _entirely_  fake. But, point being, Ma’Adda and Ko'Lin would take a decent sum home, Lance would sneak into the Castle cryo-pods overnight, and no one would be the wiser.

 

Ga'Ulin wasn't a paradise planet like Olkarion, with its lush forests intertwined around the Olkari’s high-tech marvels. No sparkling beaches, no brilliant jungles or deserts. Instead, Ga'Ulin thrived as a gritty world-sized metropolis, with so many literal and metaphorical back alleys, it felt a bit like walking around in an old Earth movie. One about 20th century mafias and gangs.

 

The reigning Governor Supreme had sworn up and down that things would be cleaned up now that the Galra were gone. The Galra Empire hadn't cared to limit the criminal element, so long as they didn't interfere with their plans to use the planet as a staging ground into other nearby systems. Therefore, said criminal element had all but taken over the streets. And the clean-up hadn't started yet.

 

While out on a stroll, Lance had overheard two little kids begging a huge dude for a favour. They looked desperate, and the giant Ga'Ulin guy was looking like he would be doing some damage soon, with  _brass knuckles_  that he casually brandished their way. 

 

But the older kid, a girl, was not to be deterred as she pleaded, "Please, _please let mom stay home today. She can't fight, she's still hurt ..."_

 

A quick intervention revealed that these two kids had a mother who fought in some secret underground fight club ( _awesome_ ), and while she made decent money, that was only if she fought when she was scheduled, despite whatever injuries ( _not awesome, not at all_ ). Apparently, she physically couldn't get out of bed right now.

 

Furthermore, the boss dude, (Ji'Deran? Ja'Delan?), was known for dragging mostly broken players back into the ring to finish out their fights ...

 

" _She either shows up, or we make her show up," growled the security guy._

 

_"Hey, hey, what if I fight for her?" Lance interceded quickly. The two kids stared up at him, confused, and the little girl clutched at the back of his armour. "When is this fight?"_

 

_"In half a varga," the large alien said, squinting at him. "You ... you're one of the Paladins."_

 

_The kids gasped. The girl yanked on Lance's armour and then let go immediately, her hands flying up to her mouth._

 

_"Right! So imagine how many folks will show up to check that out!" Lance said with a grin and a waggle of eyebrows. "You know it'll be a fight worth watching!"_

 

_"We don't want any trouble with Voltron," the guy grunted at him. "This isn't your business."_

 

_"Okay, but what if ..."_

 

_"Yu'Ferol," came a silky, soft voice. "This is my decision to make."_

 

_In the doorway behind the massive bouncer was a slightly shorter, slimmer alien. He had the same double-irises of his people, the same humanoid build with particularly brawny arms, but he seemed to have pointier ears and wider eyes — a mix of some other species? He also exuded a level of coldness Lance typically associated with the scarier Galra generals. But, having faced those Galra generals and lived to tell the tale, Lance wasn't intimidated._

 

_"Hey man, Lance of Blue, currently Red Paladin fame, how goes?" He waved. He would offer a handshake, but not every alien species was cool with that — there had been a few diplomatic incidents over it. Lance may or may not have been at the centre of those incidents, but really, no one could have predicted that a handshake would be considered one of the rudest gestures on that particular planet. Their dungeon had been nice. Cosy, even. "If my celebrity status makes me unavailable to fight, maybe we can find another—"_

 

_"No one who operates in the upper echelons would dare speak of my matches to anyone. To do so would admit guilt, since everyone who partakes of these games is operating outside the law." This new person eyed Lance from bottom to top, and Lance ... didn't really enjoy that, nope, not even a little; it felt like being put on a chopping block. "So even if they saw you ... And you would be a draw for the crowds ..." He seemed to enjoy thinking out loud, this guy. Lance had to hold back an eye roll. The man cocked a slim, perfectly straight blue eyebrow. "You sign in place of Re'Yulon, and you'll have your match. I'll even allow you and the children to place bets. Normally the fighters cannot partake in the pot."_

 

 _Lance immediately formed a plan. This guy thought he was_ so  _slick. But this fight was_ so  _not going to go the way he expected._

 

_"It's a deal!" Lance agreed, shooting the gobsmacked kids a bright smile. "It'll be fine."_

 

 _"You'll beat them for us?" The girl breathed out. "But ... you fight in wars. You're saving the universe. This is—_ "

 

_Lance crouched down before her. She seemed to be maybe eleven or twelve, albeit much smaller than Earth kids were at that age. She had her little brother firmly in hand, and she looked scarred up and hungry. This kid ... she didn't think she mattered, not in the grand scheme of things. Lance knew the feeling very well, though not in the same context. And he could make it better for this one kid, even if he was still in the process of figuring it out for himself._

 

 _"This is exactly what I'm meant to be doing," he told her gently. "Paladins defend the universe and everyone in it. That means you guys. We can't be everywhere, but I'm here, now. So, just you watch. And, uh, come find me before the match. I'll tell you how much money to place.”_ And who to place it on _, he thought smugly to himself._

 

After the match, Lance staggered over to a small waiting room, just outside the clean-up area shared by the fighters. The two kids were there, and the older sister jumped up, rushing over to him, hugging him carefully. She probably had a lot of experience with these kinds of wounds with her mom. Lance was supremely grateful for the caution — he hadn't been allowed to wear his armour in the ring.

 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Ma’Adda said immediately. When she pulled back, Lance saw that one of her six-fingered hands was clutching a bag of coins tightly. It looked fat and full. Her double-irised eyes were wide, the green and purple hues catching the street light flickering in the windows. “If you had won—”

 

“But everybody would expect a Paladin of Voltron to win,” Lance explained to her, once again. He reached up to massage his aching jaw. “Gah. Ow. You bet on me to lose, and so the odds — look, I really don’t want to be encouraging gambling, okay? One time deal. Now, the big boss of the ring will consider the debt to your mom paid, since I fought for him, and you got some money out of it! Everybody wins!” Lance clenched his jaw against a cry as he waved his arms around — one of his shoulders was definitely dislocated. “Quick, dirty, efficient solution.”

 

Ma’Adda clutched her little brother closer to her side, and a few sparkling tears spilled down her face as she whispered, “Thank you. Really. We can live off of this much ... for phoebs. Maybe even long enough for our mother to find a new job ...” 

 

Lance's heart swelled with pride and relief. "No thanks needed! And hey, little dude." Lance crouched again, and this time it hurt like  _hell,_ but he wanted to be able to look this child in the eye. He'd been quiet, and unwilling to look at Lance for too long. He did so now, shyly. Lance smiled through his bruises. "Listen, Ko'Lin, you're gonna be okay now, right? And if you're not, well, we're gonna be around for a week or more, um, a movement, that is. So, you or your sister can come find us."

 

Ko'Lin blinked at him, then he slowly let go of his sister. He pressed his tiny hand to the one spot on Lance's face that wasn't purple or bleeding. "Okay. But no more losing."

 

Lance laughed, and then instantly cried out in pain, cussing viciously in Spanish. He bit off the last curse so he could grin winningly at the two concerned kids. "That's right, no more losing. Do you need me to walk you home?"

 

"Oh, you’re not walking anywhere just yet."

 

Lance whipped around, ignoring his injuries, ignoring everything but the two children, putting himself between them and ... Ja'Delan. The man smiled; he didn't seem like he'd spoken a word of threat. He waved at the two children behind Lance. "You can let them go. Or not. But they aren't my concern. I'll even let them keep the coins you cheated to win for them."

 

That ... didn't sound good. The only reason this guy would be  _this_ forgiving were if he had something else up his sleeve. Lance straightened his back, hating himself for the armour and bayard stored in a locked chest several metres away. "Right. What's the deal here?"

 

Ja'Delan held up his tablet, with Lance's signature glowing out from the bottom of the fight agreement. "The deal you made with me, actually. You took Re'Yulon's place. That means you've got five more fights this movement. It's Final Elimination, you see. I'll make an exception, since normally your loss today would mean you're out ... But now that I know you're not so noble as your armour suggests, I'm holding you to the rest of these. Beginning tomorrow."

 

Lance stuck out his chin. "Right. I don't know if you realize this, but I just helped save your planet, and I've got other planets to get to. You can't keep me here."

 

"Not physically, no, but I don't have to let these children leave. And I don't have to let them keep their money if I do. And I don't have to let their mother out of her contract." Ja'Delan kept smiling congenially. "If you leave, it all falls back into place, you see. Even if you somehow pull me off the games with your upper level influence — the fear keeps them running. I have eyes and hands everywhere. They know what to do with traitors and deal-breakers. To their families."

 

Ma'Adda and Ko'Lin were trembling at his back, to the point where the bag of coins softly rattled a happy tune, completely in contrast to the dark, oppressive fog that had smothered them all. 

 

But Lance, even as he realized this was now one of his patented screw-ups, he  _knew_ he could turn this around. He had served as right-hand man to Keith Kogane. He had survived Zarkon, and he'd dealt with several strange alien races out to either cook him or sacrifice him to their volcano gods. He wasn't going to fold under pressure. And he wasn't going to do anything to mess up the diplomatic talks that Allura, Shiro, and Coran were busting their butts over.

 

"All right," Lance said coldly. "You got me. But I'm going to win. And I'll even bet on it."

 

"Now, while my fighters are not typically permitted to put money on the matches, that's a bet I will let you make, as the odds are  _not_ on your side, most  _noble_ Paladin," Ja'Delan said, his smile growing sharper, a hint of canines, filed to points. "De'Kroa is one of our lower tier competitors. Place your bet. I shall take your blood and your money as payment for the cheating."

 

Lance nodded once, and Ja'Delan stepped out of the doorway. Behind him were several thugs, one of whom was holding Lance's armour and bayard. Lance slowly put said armour back on and then unleashed his bayard. "So I can leave, then?"

 

The fight-ring boss pointed out the door, where his giant security team had now moved out of the way. "Naturally. I know you'll be back. The details have already been sent to your comm link."

 

Lance picked up the kids with his uninjured arm, holding them close as he marched out of there, head held high.

 

Ma'Adda whispered frantically as soon as they were out the door and back onto the streets, "Lance, no, he's going to  _kill you._ You'll  _die_ in those matches, you'll—"

 

"Hey, have a little more faith in me. You're talking to a defender of the universe, remember?" She stared up at him, chewing on her lower lip, but then Ko'Lin reached over and poked her in the arm.

 

"Paladin Lance can do it," the boy said solemnly. "And we're gonna watch. We can be his guests. Every fighter gets three guests."

 

"Not so sure I want you guys there—"

 

"Ja'Delan knows where we live, he knows everything," Ma'Adda said, cutting him off with a quick little motion of her hands. "Ko'Lin's right. We'll be here. We'll look out for you, Lance.” She sounded fierce, determined, even though she was still shaking like a leaf in Lance's arms.

 

Well, if these two were going to be in the audience, then Lance  _definitely_ had to win.

 

******

 

Hunk knew that Lance had called in, said he was going to be late getting back. Shiro had already been on the verge of looking for him, and Hunk was right there with him, but when Lance insisted that he was already on the way home, Shiro had relented.

 

Truthfully, Hunk had still wanted to go out there, but Shiro hadn't wanted anyone else to leave the base. Keith hadn't been too thrilled with that announcement, but he'd sulked off to bed (though he probably took a detour to the training deck). Pidge and Matt were reluctant but willing to accept the orders, since Lance had reassured everyone that he was  _all good in the hood, guys, I swear, see you in a tic!_ Allura and Coran went off to bed with smiles on their faces after that bit. Hunk had tried to sleep, but he ... he had a  _feeling._ And he was nearly always right when he had these  _feelings._ He called them his _Lance-No-Bueno_ sense. Which Lance had found hilarious, but even he had admitted that Hunk was kind of psychic when it came to Lance being in trouble.

 

He wished he wasn't. Particularly now, as he waited, camped out by the Castle entrance, for his best friend to arrive. Hunk could be sleeping. He could be getting in some meal prep for tomorrow's feast. But no, he had to be absolutely sure that Lance was in one piece.

 

Hunk might have dosed off, but he woke up the moment he heard footfalls near him. He jerked up from his half-reclined pose against the wall, blinking in the dim light. 

 

Lance had walked right by him without seeing him ... Actually, Lance hadn't walked so much as  _limped_ right by him ...

 

"Lance, what happened?" Hunk asked.

 

A shriek rang out, and Lance whipped around, hand over his heart.

 

Hunk gasped, both of his hands rising up to reach for him. "Oh my god, Lance,  _Lance,_ what the hell—"

 

"It's fine!" Lance hissed, and he was already turning around, rushing down the hallway, limp disappearing in his hurry.

 

"Um, no, it's not!" Hunk hissed back, catching up easily.

 

The entire left side of Lance's face was swollen, bruised, and there was a cut on his right temple, blood streaking that side of his face. He was clutching his left arm gingerly against his chest, and just ...  _Nothing_ about him seemed  _fine._

 

"You know I'm not gonna let this go," Hunk said, following resolutely behind him, realizing they were heading for the medical wing. Which was great, at least Lance knew he needed treatment. "I'll go get Coran, and Shiro—"

 

"Hunk,  _no_ — I'm calling  _Brunch-Do!"_ Lance's voice cracked. He clutched at Hunk with both hands, even though it was clearly painful, and his  _knuckles,_ holy crap, they were  _destroyed._

 

 _"What the_ — you can't call  _Brunch-Do,_ we're in  _space, a billion miles from Brunch-Do!"_

 

It was an old pact, going back to when they were in middle-school — on weekends, their parents would always take them to a greasy, cheap, hole-in-the-wall joint named  _Brunch-Do._ It was both Hunk and Lance's favourite place to eat, forever, and as soon as they had been old enough, they started going on their own with their allowance money. It endured during the Garrison years, when they found a satellite location just a couple miles off campus. They had cried about crushes and bad grades over bacon and eggs, debated the finer points of  _Star Wars_ while waving croissants around, and stayed there practically all day with a steady supply of breakfast sandwiches and orange juice when Hunk's parents' had told him about the divorce.

 

If either of them called  _Brunch-Do,_ that meant something sacred. It meant that it was  _huge,_  important enough to discuss over brunch, and if it wasn't deemed life-or-death, then the person who called it had to cover the  _Brunch-Do_ bill for the entire next month.

 

Lance looked desperate, but he also looked ... determined. "Hunk. I'm serious. This is vital. I will explain. Just don't tell anyone."

 

Hunk inhaled deeply. "Okay. But if it's not a valid  _Brunch-Do,_ I am so dragging your butt over to Shiro's room."

 

Lance began a rapid-fire summation of his night. Hunk stared at him, slack-jawed, as he went over the entire encounter with the two kids, the security guy, the freaking  _crime boss who ran an illegal fight club,_ and the contract that Lance had signed. Oh, and the  _death threats, couldn't forget about those._

 

Hunk was going to tell Shiro.

 

"No." Lance also had a keen ability to read Hunk, unfortunately. "Hunk, we get this guy thrown in whatever they have that passes for jail, and those kids ... their mom ... Hunk,  _no._ "

 

"So we get them here, inside the Castle," Hunk argued. "Lance, you can't—"

 

"I can, and I will," Lance said stubbornly. "Hunk, this is their  _home._ What, we're gonna rip them away? You don't think that Ja'Dalen won't just have a bunch of innocent people bumped off to prove a point to me regardless?"

 

Hunk still wasn't willing to give in, but then Lance quickly added, "How about we offer it to them? You come with me, tomorrow, and we'll go early, meet with them, offer them asylum. If they take it, I'll tell the others, and we'll take Ja'Dalen down. If they don't ... You can be there, for the fight. You can see for yourself that  _I can handle it._ And if I can't, then we'll tell Shiro all about it. See? Either way, you have a win!"

 

"Unless you win," Hunk pointed out. But he could feel himself giving in — this was his best friend in the whole universe. Moreover, Hunk loved him as much as he loved his own parents. Lance already had problems with self-worth, in ways that scared Hunk to death. He couldn't be the reason why Lance regressed. Not after everything he, and everyone else on the team, had done to prove to Lance that he was capable of being a competent, powerful Paladin.

 

Lance grinned even though it looked like it hurt. "Well, if I win, then clearly, there's no problem, right? Means I can totally kick all kinds of butt and win myself a championship title."

 

There it was. Hunk stared at Lance for a good, long while. This was a risk. But he would bet on Lance, every time. 

 

"Get in the healing pod, you freaking walking, talking natural disaster," Hunk said with a fond little smile. "I'll set my alarm and get here before anyone wakes up."

 

Lance hugged him around the neck with one arm. "You are the freaking greatest human ever, Hunk. The greatest. And I will totally pay for all the Brunch-Do's ever when we get back home."

 

"Oh, I am going to remember that," Hunk warned him. "Do not issue that promise lightly."

 

Lance went into the pod easily, and Hunk watched it calculate the amount of time needed to heal Lance — it came to roughly five vargas. He would set his tablet alarm for four and a half vargas from now, just to be safe, and he would lock the door with one of Pidge's special key cards that he may or may not have swiped to get a leg up on her latest engineering project.

 

Hunk trusted Lance, and he trusted himself to take care of Lance. They'd been watching each other's backs for years, and they were still standing, despite horrible odds and terrifying scenarios.

 

Compared to Zarkon, to Haggar, and a Shiro clone? This would probably be a piece of cake. A piece of plain vanilla cake, nothing too exciting, and Hunk could bake it in his sleep. Exactly like that. No reason to worry. Or panic.

 

(He ended up spending his four vargas of sleep preparing a portable med-kit, wrapping up several small, intensely nutritional meals, and boosting the power of his comm transceiver in case panic was required.)

 

******

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to all of you, space cowboys is getting done! Just very, very slowly. Also, apologies for any mistakes! I'm probably gonna find a ton when I re-read this to write later chapters, and I will fix them up. So sorry!
> 
> If you want to follow me on [Tumblr](http://thisgirlhastales.tumblr.com/), I post sneak peeks and updates on there as well. 
> 
> Now I'm off to write more of ... this Lance-pain story, space cowboys, baby Keith being raised by the Blades — who knows? Lately, I cannot control where the hell my writing brain goes ...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance gets a little pre-fight training from one of the best close-combat warriors he knows, and match number one takes place with Hunk as a nail-biting witness to the madness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, I'm whipping through this like mad, and hopefully, once I work this fic out of my system, back to space cowboys I go! Thank you so much to all of you who have been so kind and encouraging! *hugs*

 

Keith didn't have much trouble listening to Lance ramble anymore. It used to be overwhelming, somewhat grating at times, and definitely irritating during battle ... But now, it just made him raise an eyebrow. He even paid close attention, since having Lance as his second-in-command had taught him that the Blue (sometimes Red) Paladin wasn't so shallow as Keith had initially thought back when they were "rivals."

 

"... And that's why I'm thinking I need to level up!" Lance finished with a flourish of his spoon. He then jammed said spoon into his mouth, managing a roguish smile despite the cutlery.

 

"Okay," Keith agreed.

 

Lance looking for extra training wasn't so rare, although he usually preferred to ask Matt Holt or Shiro (the real one, not the clone frozen in the bowels of the Castle, which still gave Keith nightmares). Ever since Keith had come back from the Blades, Lance had been a little distant. Keith knew that was his own fault for not allowing Lance close enough to mend the gaps in their friendship.

 

Part of the reason was his usual awkwardness with people. The other reason was that entire time while Lance and Keith had worked together to discover where the real Shiro was,  struggling to keep it a secret so they could foil Haggar's plot without the witch knowing ... Keith had an unwelcome epiphany that had kind of messed with his reality.

 

But right now, that didn't matter. Lance wanted to be more combat ready, and Keith was totally on board with that.

 

"Meet me on the training deck in an hour," he said briskly.

 

Keith smirked when Lance blinked at him, mouth parting in surprise. The spoon clattered back on this plate, nearly bouncing to the floor. Lance scrambled to catch it and make it look deliberate. Keith laughed at him, feeling a strong desire to reach over and mess up his hair, but no, they weren't back to normal, not yet.

 

"Okay," Lance echoed. "Didn't really expect you to agree so quickly. Awesome. Um, see you then?" After a beat, his blue eyes narrowed, somewhat suspicious.

 

Keith turned on his heel before the pink in his cheeks could give the all-too-perceptive Blue/Red Paladin any hints.

 

An hour later, on the training deck, Keith found himself asking, "Why did you ask me and not Shiro or Matt?"

 

"Oh, well, it's ..." Lance trailed off, finishing one of his stretches achingly slowly. Keith rapidly bent into a stretch of his own, eyes on the floor _._ "It's because I need you to teach me some of the stuff you learned with the Blades. They're probably the fastest, most brutally efficient fighters I've ever seen. And you've always been pretty cutthroat yourself. Not saying it's a bad thing!" Lance sounded worried, vaguely panicked.

 

Keith straightened, shaking his head — he had no problems with the kind of fighter he'd turned out to be. "No offense taken."

 

"Right, well, I know Shiro doesn't need me to ask how he fought in the arena, and especially not so soon after … So, yeah. I would really like you to teach me to be a badass ninja dude."

 

"I'm good with that." He was also still curious as to what brought it on, as Lance's reasoning had seemed … random. But he wasn't going to press further — Lance seemed eager and happy, and they didn't have anything pressing going on, since Shiro, Allura, and Coran were the ones negotiating with the Ga'Ulin government. Lance might just be bored, especially since he was still stuck on the final level of that video game. This was likely just a way to keep himself entertained.

 

Keith adopted a basic stance, and Lance mirrored him — but before he could completely settle his pose, Keith had dropped, swung out a leg, and knocked Lance's feet out from under him.

 

"The first rule, Lance," Keith said, standing up over him, hands on his hips, "is that people are going to break rules all the damn time."

 

Lance scowled up at him, but soon his expression cleared; his eyes glinted, completely taking Keith aback. Lance leapt to his feet in one sinuous motion, his hands up. "All right, Keith, I think I got it."

 

Two hours later, Lance had managed to nail Keith twice in the face, with a couple of near misses, usually from a prone position when Keith was sure Lance was out for the count. He'd used his long legs to his advantage, eating up space between them and then backing off quickly if he felt overwhelmed. Overall, Keith was soundly kicking his ass, but Lance was putting up more of a fight, landing solid blows, and getting dirtier with his tactics, though he still couldn't quite predict Keith's moves.

 

Gasping for breath, wincing as he rotated his shoulders, Lance managed a gratitude-filled smile at Keith. "Thanks, man. You have no idea how much I appreciate this."

 

There was no hint of mockery in his tone — it was entirely sincere, with a touch of awe. Keith ... didn't know what to do with that. He ran his fingers through his sweaty hair, swiping beneath his nose to make sure he wasn't bleeding, and licking his lips, discovering his lower one was split.

 

Lance reached out with one hand, clapping Keith on the shoulder. "Sorry for the damage. Totally didn't expect to get one by you!"

 

"Lucky shot," Keith threw back, smiling — that pulled on the cut a little, stinging, but he didn't mind. "It was a good lucky shot, though."

 

Lance grinned back. "Well, I gotta get me a shower and some lunch. Then I'll be heading out to the city with Hunk. Got some bestie bonding time to put in today! Been neglecting my number one guy, and that simply cannot stand."

 

Keith didn't feel jealous of Hunk at all, but he was somewhat envious of that easiness between Lance and the Yellow Paladin. Partially because of this new discovery itching beneath his skin, but mostly because Keith and Shiro were really tense around each other right now.

 

Shiro still felt responsible for the actions of his clone, and Keith would forever feel terrible for his all too infrequent visits to the Castle, for not recognizing the impostor when he was actually here visiting ... It was a mess they were all struggling to sort through, and Keith missed having  _his_ best friend (his brother) as close as Hunk was to Lance.

 

Even worse, Keith missed being able to talk to Shiro about stupid things — like boys with pretty blue eyes, even though there would be endless teasing and noogies once Shiro heard about this ...

 

"Hey, can we do this again tomorrow?" Lance asked excitedly, turning back around before he exited the room. "Seriously, I feel like I learned a ton, and now it's a matter of pride, getting to a point where I can thoroughly kick your ass."

 

"Sure," Keith agreed, unable to restrain the happy smile, the blush, but at least he had the excuse of exertion to explain away the red tint to his skin. "Same time?"

 

Lance shot him with a couple of finger guns and made his way out. Keith slapped himself in the face with both hands, as if he could drag the smile off or banish the flush. He stared at the now closed doors and wondered if going back to the Blades was an option; clearly, returning to Voltron had made him  _soft._

 

He scratched at the back of his head, sighed heavily, and decided it was time to shower ... But first, he would wait for Lance to leave the communal locker room, and spare himself any potential heart attacks.

 

******

 

Hunk watched Lance wind his way through the crowds, his best friend walking with a direct stride, no deviation from his target. He wore soft, dark blue pants, form-fitting, and a shirt of a lighter blue, short-sleeved and clinging to his form; they were scruffy clothes, with patches and the odd hole.  _"They're comfy and old — won't care if they get bloody,"_ Lance had said cheerily. Hunk had held back a wince at those words. Lance carried a bag with a spare outfit and long dark coat for later, along with his bayard and comm. 

 

The sun of Ga'Ulin shone with a pale yellow glow, revealing that not a single mark remained on Lance ... other than a few, fresh bruises from his training with Keith earlier that morning.

 

He'd wondered why Lance had chosen Keith, of all people, to train with, considering that Matt Holt was pretty badass, and it went without saying that Shiro was a legitimate champion. But Lance had shaken his head when Hunk had pointed all this out, saying, " _Keith is the best dirty fighter we got, and he's only gotten better since hanging with the Blades. Plus, Matt and Shiro are ... sort of good at figuring stuff out. Keith is one hundred percent focus when he’s training. He won't worry too much about why I'm doing this."_

 

Hunk didn't think Lance was giving Keith enough credit. After all, despite being loyal to a fault to Shiro, Keith was the first person to help Lance determine that their real Black Paladin was still missing. They worked together and saved the whole team. Ever since Keith had come back from the Blade of Marmora, he tended to zero in on people's faces, scrutinizing them with an intimidating, unblinking stare. Hunk had noticed that said stare seemed to land on Lance more often than not — so Lance definitely should be more concerned about Keith figuring this out before week's end.

 

But Hunk might not warn Lance because if Keith figured this out  _on his own,_ then Hunk would have one more person to keep an eye on Lance during this whole fiasco.

 

They reached Re'Yulon's home after a twenty-minute speeder ride and a fifteen-minute walk in a densely packed, grimy part of town. The former cage fighter lived in a small apartment, first floor, just off an alleyway. It was her daughter, Ma'Adda, who opened the door, greeting Lance with a happy shout and throwing her skinny arms around his waist.

 

"Why are you here?" she asked, sounding worried. "We don't have to leave yet, there's at least a varga—" She spotted Hunk and fell silent mid-sentence, her mouth clamping shut. She backed up, her hands clutching at the hem of her loose, long-sleeved shirt. "Um. You're another Paladin?"

 

"That's me!" Hunk said sunnily. "Yellow Paladin, at your service!" He bowed with a flourish, heard a little giggle, and lifted his head to see the tiny boy who must be Ko'Lin.

 

Ko’Lin had emerged from another room with his mother in tow. She was tall, nearly as tall as Hunk, with bulging muscles and bright turquoise skin. Her eyes were green and blue, and she seemed to be clutching at her side with one hand. But she smiled broadly at both of them.

 

"Well, it's an honour to meet two Paladins of Voltron. I am sorry for not greeting you last night, Paladin Lance, I was still ... unavailable." Ma'Adda rushed over to her mother's side, helping her into a puffy, cushioned chair.

 

Lance shook his head quickly. "No worries! My friend and I, we're here to check on all of you, and also to, um, to ask you ..." Lance paused, looking towards Hunk.

 

Hunk stared back at Lance and decided to take the lead, since this had originally been his idea. He turned to the family with his most kind smile. "Listen, I know things are rough around here, and this Ja'Delan jackass makes it even rougher. So, if you wanted to, and only if you wanted to, we could offer you asylum on the Castle. Maybe even relocate you here, or on another world—"

 

Ma'Adda shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. Her hand trembled as she reached for Lance's. "Are-are you leaving? Is that why? It's ... okay, I understand if you need to go save another planet—"

 

"No! Not yet, Ma'Adda, not yet," Lance blurted out, falling to his knees and gathering her up in a hug. "It's just ... This would be safer for you, in the end."

 

"It might be," Re'Yulon considered, her eyes tired. "But I'm old in my bones, Paladin Lance, and the idea of restarting on a new world ... I couldn't ask you for that. I couldn't ask you for anything more, either. Here, I know where to go for money, for a quick job, for reprieve. Ja'Delan has a long reach, and I don't wish to make life difficult for my neighbours. For anyone who has ever helped me and my children. No, for better or worse, this is our home."

 

"Just call me Lance," he said softly. "We won't be pulling you away against your will, Re'Yulon. I've got this, don't worry."

 

Re'Yulon smiled again then, wrinkles forming around her mouth and eyes. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like you, boy, and I'm not just talking about your species."

 

Hunk couldn't find it in him to belabour the point. He knew, for all the flaws of Earth, for all the ways it could be ravaged by war and hunger, it would take a hell of a lot for him to leave permanently. Even being tied to his duty as he was, there were times when he could hardly restrain himself from jumping in the Yellow Lion and just ... taking off. For home. For his family. For familiar air and earth and water. Hypothetically, if the only way to go back home (to guarantee Earth's safety) was to live the kind of life that Re'Yulon did ... Hunk would do it, in a heartbeat.

 

"Lance is going to make you proud," Hunk announced with an expanding gesture of his arms. "It'll be great, don't you worry about a thing!"

 

"Are you coming with us?" Ma'Adda asked, looking more relaxed now that the talk of leaving the planet had concluded.

 

Hunk nodded enthusiastically, grabbing Lance around the neck and messing up his hair. He ignored Lance’s squawking protests so he could smile down at the young girl. "You bet! This is my best buddy in the world, known him most of our lives. I gotta be there to watch him kick butt. Which he will, have no doubt."

 

Both Ma'Adda and Ko'Lin cheered up noticeably at this.

 

Before they left for the match, Hunk unpacked some of the meals he'd brought with him, putting them in the kitchen cupboards and the small little fridge unit the family had. Re'Yulon took Lance aside to give him some last minute advice.

 

By the time they arrived at the fight club place (at a nondescript door facing the main street, a giant bouncer in front of it), Lance was bouncing on his heels, looking ready and capable of taking all comers.

 

"Welcome back," said the security dude, a severe glare burning through them all. "I look forward to your match, Paladin."

 

Lance saluted the huge guy easily, smirk firmly in place. "Make sure you place your bet wisely."

 

The guy snorted, though whether he was laughing at Lance or  _with_ him, Hunk couldn't tell. He was already starting to sweat, and his muscles were all bunched up, something Ko'Lin could probably feel, since he was perched on one of Hunk's shoulders.

 

The arena was down a set of steps, narrow and creaking, which was why Hunk audibly gasped when they hit the bottom.

 

This basement was  _massive._

 

It was easily the size of the Castle training arena, if not bigger. They stood at the top of stands that boxed in the circular cage at the very bottom, also fairly huge. There were vid screens in opposite corners, displaying the odds for each fight (Hunk looked away, unwilling to cause himself more anxiety seeing what Lance’s chance for victory really was). The seating was already half full with people who were a bizarre combination of wealthy (though trying to hide it, but even in modest clothes, they were a touch too polished) and the impoverished (likely here either as guests or spending their few spare coins on some entertainment). 

 

Hunk wasn't necessarily disguised, but he wore a long thick coat with the collar turned up and a beanie hat. No one gave him a second look as he and the kids sought some decent seats. The first three rows were reserved for the high-rollers, but everything else was fair game.

 

Lance pointed towards an area in the middle. "That looks like an awesome place to get a great view. I've got to head to the back now, and put my money down." Lance winked at Hunk. "Dude, being the knight in shining armour can also be lucrative, who knew?"

 

He ruffled Ma'Adda and Ko'Lin's long, wavy hair before he disappeared.

 

"Hunk, let's go where Lance said," Ma'Adda said, having let go of Lance and now grabbing onto Hunk's sleeve. "I want to see him win close up!"

 

"Me too!" chimed in Ko'Lin from above Hunk's left ear.

 

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Hunk said, rushing over before the seats were taken. He made sure the kids were safe on either side of him, and immediately broke into his pack of supplies for some water, hoping to ease the burning dread in him. "I've got some snacks if you guys are hungry. Is there any, uh, protocol for cheering at these things?"

 

Ma'Adda pondered for a moment, then said, "Be loud, swear a lot, but don't throw anything at the cage, 'cause that'll get you thrown out. Or beat up. Or both."

 

"Gotcha."

 

Hunk inhaled deeply, his eyes scoping out the exits, his hand reaching into his jacket for the soothing, smooth surface of his bayard. He could definitely get Lance out of here if things went really bad, but Ma'Adda and Ko'Lin would be put at risk if a huge brawl broke out. He had to keep his cool. Had to maintain calm and carry on.

 

Had to believe that Lance could absolutely, without a doubt, win this.

 

******

 

Lance was pumped up.

 

He had no clue which fighter he was facing, but Re'Yulon told him that was normal in the first match of Final Elimination week. The first bout was random, and the others were tiered as people fought the winners (or survivors) of the previous rounds. She had warned him that weapons might be introduced on the fourth day, and that if Ja'Delan thought someone was doing  _too_ well,  _predictable and boring,_ he might toss in other arbitrary variables to revitalize the fights.

 

But today, Lance knew, was going to be nothing but a pure beating, just like the night before — except this time, Lance wasn't going to be playing an elaborate game so he could lose on purpose.

 

No, it was going to be a  _solid_  beat down of his opponent.

 

He grinned as he jumped in place, and then dropped into a stretch. He'd packed away his bayard and spare clothes in the same locked chest from last night. He wore nothing other than the pants and shirt, his shoes also having been abandoned. Nothing that could be turned into a weapon was permitted in the arena (for now).

 

"You seem eager," said Ja'Delan, standing off to the side, half cloaked in shadow.

 

Lance had been toe-to-toe with Prince Lotor — this guy's theatrics had  _nothing_ on that perfectly coiffed half-Galra jerkface. Lance pointed with one hand, his most confident smile in place. "I'm just ready for my first win."

 

Ja'Delan hummed. "Interesting. The odds aren't so high in your favour as they were, after your defeat last night. You disappointed many, and now you stand at about fifty-fifty."

 

"Cool, love playing an underdog." Lance wanted to toss his hair, but a few minutes ago he'd used a gel to keep his hair tamed, parted to one side and pushed back slightly (Allura had many awesome hair care products, and she'd been happy to gift Lance with a few bottles). A couple of stubborn strands brushed his forehead, but nothing distracting.

 

A shrill bell rang out three times, and the crowd started cheering, settling down in their seats instead of roaming for snacks or conversation.

 

Lance could just see through the sliver of the double doors before him. On the opposite side of the arena would be the other contender. There were a few doubts flitting about his brain, the usual put-downs about his abilities, the choices he'd made, the fact that this could turn out to be disastrous not only for him, but more importantly for those two kids, for their mother, for the alliances his friends were so carefully crafting ...

 

But Hunk was there, and Hunk  _believed in him,_ had kept this secret for him, and Lance wouldn't let him down. Wouldn't let any of them down.

 

"Let's do this," Lance said, and his tone wasn't playful any longer — Lance wasn't here to  _play._

 

Ja'Delan nodded once. His eyes, a disconcerting combination of a pale green and silvery grey, once again gave him a scanning look from the tips of his toes to the ends of his hair. Lance met that cold gaze head-on. After the boss had left to sit wherever it was he sat during fights, Lance released a long, slow breath.

 

He heard the announcer — a booming voice, echoing and repeating himself, not unlike the wrestling announcers back home on Earth. Lance waited, vibrating in place.

 

"...  _And now we have a surprise combatant. A man eager to prove he is more than his shameful defeat. The noble Paladin returns to wreak his justice within our cage!"_

 

Lance burst through the doors, and the cacophony nearly deafened him. He made sure his grin didn't falter, tuned his ears to the cheers so he could ignore the jeers, and blew kisses at a few pretty girls nearby who swooned or shot him a flash of skin that made him flush. One blue-skinned guy winked at him, and Lance winked back — anyone on his side deserved a little love.

 

Already in the ring was a massive, hulking man — he was just as big as De'Kroa, and nearly as mean-looking. But unlike the heavily scarred alien Lance had allowed to beat him to a pulp, this guy seemed far calmer, even vaguely amused as Lance leapt up and grasped the cage door, swinging it open and sliding in with a spin. The grated door slammed shut behind him, and he could hear the lock snapping into place.

 

"Paladin," the guy said. And  _bowed._ This got an appreciative cheer from most of the crowd, along with a few curses to  _get on with it!_

 

Lance bowed too, though he didn't make the mistake of taking his eyes off his opponent. "To'Edrun, right?" He'd heard the announcer say this guy was some kind of  _"master of the spiritual martial arts!"_

 

"Correct," he replied, stretching his long arms, the dark turquoise muscles bulging. His eyes were purple and blue, and he seemed to be roughly Lance's age, maybe a couple of years older. He had only a few scars, and his voice was pleasant, soothing even.

 

Lance almost regretted what he had to do. Almost.

 

"Any last words?" Lance asked, and he wasn't being a smart-ass. Well, not  _entirely._

 

"I expect you won't be holding back this time," To'Edrun said. He brought his arms up into a loose stance, cracking his neck as he did. "I thank you for what you've done for my planet, but I will not be holding back either."

 

Lance nodded, lifted his arms ... There was no bell, no indication when to start — most fights started as soon as the doors were locked, Re'Yulon had told him, and that's certainly what had happened the night before. This time, Lance and To'Edrun stared at each other for a long second, and then ...

 

To'Edrun moved quickly to the side, and Lance followed him, flowing into the motions, letting instinct take over, like Keith had taught him, while also keeping one part of his brain aware enough to plan a few moves ahead.

 

The first hit Lance took brought him to his knees, a split at the corner of his eyebrow, thankfully away from his eye so the blood didn't block his vision. As soon as his knees hit the mat, he fell back and brought out his leg, swiping at To'Edrun's, knocking him to the floor. Lance stood, giving the man time to get up, to face Lance on his feet. Keith would've yelled at him for this, but this guy ... He seemed worthy of that respect. A fair match.

 

To'Edrun leapt and nearly took out Lance again, but Lance spun, landing sharp jabs at tender flesh right beneath one arm and in the side, just above the hip. The air audibly left To'Edrun's lungs, and that was when Lance ducked beneath a wild swing, landing a kick to the back of the taller man's knee.

 

To'Edrun went down, hard, but only for a second — he managed to grab at Lance's shirt, yank him to the floor, and then rise to his knees with Lance in a chokehold.

 

Lance gasped for air, panicking, but no,  _no_ , he knew how to get out of this — Shiro had taught him one way, Keith another, he just had to pick ... Lance surged down, To'Edrun bending with him at the sudden move; Lance let go of the arm choking him to instead grip at the backs of his opponent’s knees, pressing hard at a pressure point Re'Yulon had told him about — one of her favourite moves.

 

To'Edrun shouted in agony, letting go of him at last.

 

Lance had to drop, inhale air desperately, but he didn't let himself enjoy the reprieve for long — he jumped up, and knocked the alien down with a kick that would've made Keith proud, landing on To'Edrun's face, dark purple blood spraying onto the mat. Huge hands reached for Lance again, catching on his now stained shirt, but it was clumsy since the man was stunned, and Lance danced away.

 

He bounced off the cage, waving a hand towards his supporters, trying to quickly spot Hunk in the mass of blurred faces.

 

Once again, he gave To'Edrun the chance to rise, to stand and go down with dignity — this fight was over, and both of them knew it.

 

To'Edrun was shaking his head, blinking rapidly to keep himself steady, it seemed. Lance was aching everywhere, but it was a distant feeling, distant as the roar of the blood-thirsty audience, as the anxiety that had plagued him moments before he entered this cage.

 

"You ... are too kind for your own good ... Paladin," To'Edrun gasped out, and then grinned, blood staining his white teeth as he tried a last lunge towards Lance. 

 

One swing got Lance hard in the side, his ribs bruised as hell; he hadn't let the momentum of the blow rock him back on his heels, like Keith had taught him, as a way to minimize the damage. But he was still on his feet and raising an arm high above the partially slumped over alien.

 

Lance brought an elbow down hard onto the back of To'Edrun's neck. The Ga'Ulin spiritual master crashed face first into the mat and, finally, did not rise again.

 

The announcer counted down five seconds before proclaiming over the shouting and screaming mob, " _The Paladin of Voltron is triumphant! Such knightly manners have never been seen in our cage!"_

 

The door unlocked and Lance raised both his fists in triumph — his ribs protested, the blood was sticking uncomfortably to his face and neck, and his hands were so sore he didn't think he could unclench them. But  _screw all of that,_ because Lance  _freaking won._

 

He spotted Hunk, Ma'Adda, and Ko'Lin sitting roughly where he'd told them to grab seats. He pointed at them with both hands, grinning as Hunk waved back at him, hooting and hollering with Ko'Lin on one shoulder and Ma'Adda on the other. 

 

Lance had just taken his first win, and the next four were all but guaranteed.

 

******

 

Keith cursed at himself as he applied the medicinal gel to the cut on his arm — such a stupid accident, missing his blade after he'd tossed it in the air. Botching the catch because he'd been frustrated at Lance for coming back late for the  _second_ night in a row, this time with Hunk as an accomplice. Shiro and Pidge seemed a lot calmer about it, since Hunk was with Lance, but Keith thought that was  _ridiculous,_ and Pidge, of all people, should know  _better._ Hunk could rarely say no to Lance, and if Lance was  _up to something,_ then Hunk had been roped into it.

 

He had been working out his frustrations on the training deck for over an hour when the accident happened. The bleeding didn't seem to want to stop on its own, so Keith made his way to the healing wing, digging around for that special clear gel that healed smaller wounds — this definitely didn't need a stay in a cryo pod. He would slap this gooey stuff on, wrap it up in a bandage, and by morning, the cut should be gone. Thank the Alteans for all their medical advancements.

 

He had just finished tying off the bandage when he heard voices. He froze, head tilted as he concentrated on the sounds ... of Hunk? Lance? They were back, but why were they heading  _here,_ instead of their rooms?

 

A minute later, Keith found out exactly why they couldn't go straight to bed — Lance swanned into the medical wing, gliding on his shoes and laughing as though he  _didn't_ have bruises covering his face, a cut bleeding sluggishly near his left eyebrow, and his  _knuckles all but destroyed._

 

"What  _the hell?!"_ Keith burst out.

 

Lance came to an abrupt, teetering halt, his eyes growing impossibly wide. Hunk appeared a second later, his own face the picture of shock.

 

No one said anything, and so Keith felt the need to elaborate on his question. "What the hell  _happened_ to you?  _Where_  have you been?"

 

The reply was extremely lacklustre. "Um, nothing and nowhere?" Lance smiled a bit, and then winced. Clearly, his face was sore because  _something had happened somewhere._

 

 _"Hunk,"_ Keith snapped, and there were times when his old leadership habits, for however unnatural they had felt at the time, resurged within him. Shiro had been oddly docile when it came to Keith issuing orders, or Lance suggesting alternatives whenever Shiro laid out a plan, in direct contrast to the harsher behaviour of his clone ... But now wasn't the time to think about that — now was the time to glare at Lance and Hunk so he could get some damn answers.

 

"It's extremely dangerous and extremely important, so, Keith, buddy, please, help us out! _"_ Hunk blathered, coming over to grab both of Keith's arms.

 

Lance rolled his eyes, whining at Hunk  _good job, hermano, seriously, like a freaking house of cards, you just folded._ As Lance complained, Keith yanked his injured arm away; Hunk hadn't hurt him, since he'd grabbed near his shoulders and not his forearms, but he didn't want to risk the cut being reopened.

 

"Wait, what happened here?" Lance's annoyed little rant ended as he zeroed in on Keith with a frown, coming closer to inspect Keith's bandaged forearm. "Did you ...  _Keith, do you know how many freaking arteries are in—_ "

 

"I had  _one little accident,_ " Keith snarled at him, ending that rant because  _his_ rant took precedence here. "What  _extremely dangerous and important thing_ are you doing to end up looking like you went three rounds with Sendak again?"

 

"Um, first off, I do not look  _that bad,_  dude, you should have seen me last night — oh, wait, no —"

 

" _Last night?"_ Keith cut him off. Lance smacked his own face, which was pretty funny, particularly since he yelped in a very high-pitch, and then whined like a kicked puppy. Unfortunately, Keith was not in a laughing mood. "This happened last night too? Damn it, could I just get a straight answer, please?"

 

"Fight club!" Hunk erupted. "Lance is in a fight club. Um, cage matches. Under contract."

 

"But just for a week!" Lance hurried to add.

 

Keith stared at them. He shifted his eyes to Hunk, to Lance, then towards the ceiling, and finally back down to the two guilty-looking Paladins. "Right. Okay. You know what, I'm not even going to ask for a full explanation right now because, Lance, you need to be in a healing pod for an hour or two. And then sleep. But how about a really quick, point-form summary?"

 

Lance held up his bruised and bloody hands, ticking items off on his miraculously unbroken fingers. "I took over the contract for a mom who cannot physically fight right now. The boss man is pretty powerful and sneaky, so any other kind of action will lead to tragedy, which I refuse to have on my conscience. It's five fights, cage matches, and I just won the first one tonight. I kicked  _ass,_ Keith. I did it."

 

The pride in those last few words had one corner of Keith's mouth twitching. "You wanted my help this morning for this."

 

"Yeah, and it worked," Lance said, sounding both grateful and boasting. "Dude, it worked freaking fantastically. We're so doing it again tomorrow—"

 

"Tomorrow, when I go to Shiro and explain what the hell you're up to?" Keith said nonchalantly.

 

Lance shook his head frantically, and Keith geared up to fight him on this, but he stopped when he saw the genuine terror in Lance’s expression.

 

Hunk sighed heavily. "No can do, man. Trust me, I tried to convince him. But Lance isn't kidding about this guy who runs the matches. He's got plenty of people working for him to cause a lot of bloodshed, and we can't guarantee anyone's safety right now. The family doesn't want to leave their home. We just ..." Hunk waved at Lance weakly. "We just gotta deal with this. You'll help, right?"

 

"We are  _not_ going to be able to find this guy's entire secret network of thugs and killers in just a few days," Lance spoke quickly, eyes wide and earnest. "We … _I_ can’t abandon this family. I made a promise. If I do this, then the contract is fulfilled, and it's all good. We leave Ga'Ulin, and this family, these two kids and their mom, they don't have to worry. Don't have to live in fear. Please, Keith."

 

With the Blades, there had been this odd mixture of independence and military restraint — his life-or-death decisions were entirely his own, missions run within parameters, though with flexibility for unknown variables. But things happened quickly during those operations, and Keith rarely had too much time to consider the full ramifications of his choices, so he tended to always put the mission first — that was the Blade of Marmora way (and Keith's own, too).

 

It had been a ... not-so-good mentality to emphasize, one that Shiro and Lance had both spoken to him about, at length. Keith hadn't wanted to hear it; he'd pushed them both away with sweaty hands and a pounding heart. But he knew that they were right. And somehow, they knew that he'd heard him, for all that he'd snapped and slammed doors in their faces. They hadn't brought it up since those first few days after Shiro's real return — that had been the last time Shiro had hugged him, too.

 

Point being, now he had time to weigh the pros and cons, and there wasn't really a mission here ... Other than keeping Lance alive. Keeping Lance  _and_  this family alive. He believed Hunk and Lance when they said this crime boss meant serious business. Having worked with the Blades, he understood how difficult it was to root out a tangled web of spies and assassins, especially if you weren't a native to the area, familiar with the customs and terrain ...

 

"Lance, seriously, get in that pod," Keith said, scrubbing his hand over his face once. "You need to heal quickly and sleep as much as you can. Training tomorrow is going to be brutal."

 

Lance went from a furrowed brow and chewed lips to a bright, beaming smile. Hunk seemed torn between relief and worry, which Keith understood all too well. 

 

"Aye aye, cap'n," Lance crowed with a lazy salute. "Man, if you aren't careful, I'll be taking over as resident ninja badass. Just you wait, Kogane."

 

Keith rolled his eyes, but he knew the smile on his face ruined his expression of annoyance. "Sure thing, Lance. We'll see if you're still this chipper after I've knocked you flat a couple dozen times over."

 

By the time Lance was in the healing pod, it was way too late into the night. Hunk was yawning, Keith was rubbing at his eyes, and the pod ticked the time down until they could finally sleep.

 

"He was pretty incredible," Hunk said after a lengthy period of silence. "You should've seen the way he got the crowd on his side. The guy he fought was two heads taller than him, but Lance held his own. They were evenly matched."

 

Hunk went on to describe the fight in more detail, pushing past moments that had him somewhat green in the face. Keith listened, eyebrows climbing high at certain points, heart skipping a beat once, but overall, he felt a pride in Lance that he couldn't express out loud, not articulately at least.

 

"That was the first round," Keith said, his smile having given way to a contemplative, stern line as he planned for tomorrow. "It's only going to get harder and meaner from here on out. And this guy Lance fought, he seemed to have some kind of code. If what you're telling me about this place is true, then the next people Lance will deal with? They probably won't be anything less than stone-cold killers."

 

Hunk gulped audibly. "So, what do we do?"

 

Keith grimaced. "I teach Lance some of the more dangerous stunts and tactics I learned from the Blades. And you make sure he's confident enough to use them."

 

"I think he has a shot at this," Hunk said, and while he was visibly worried, his voice carried all warmth and faith. "Lance can really do this."

 

"Yeah, well, let's just make sure he gets through it in one piece," Keith said, agreeing without actually saying as much.

 

He stared at Lance in the healing pod, at his expressionless face, and told Hunk, "Also, I'm coming with you to the next match."

 

Hunk made a soft noise of agreement. Not that Keith would've stayed away if Hunk or Lance said no — he had to be there to witness this, for his own sanity.

 

(Because, on the off-chance that Lance  _couldn't_ win, Keith was ready to take on everyone and anyone to get him the hell out of there. But first, Lance had to have his fair shot at victory — and if Lance  _did win,_ Keith definitely wanted to be there for that, to watch him shake those bloodied fists in the air and grin viciously over his fallen opponent. Keith wondered if there was something wrong with him, but then decided that it didn't matter — whatever it was that made Keith this way, it was something that he could use to help get Lance to the final round.)

 

****** 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may or may not be a pattern developing here ;D It's kinda fun to write this on the fly, with only a tentative plan!
> 
> Again, thanks a ton to everyone who has encouraged me, who has forgiven me for neglecting The Two McClains for now, and who has enjoyed this spur-of-the-moment tale! Many hugs sent your way!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance trains even more with Keith, Hunk watches with trepidation, and Pidge has been watching for a while, accumulating evidence — and now she wants to know _exactly_ what's going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again! :D A huge thank you to **Enikawa_Moriko** for creating some wonderful art for this fic — [show some love over here!](http://enikawamoriko.tumblr.com/post/172072735139/me-procrastinating-no-way-anyway-i-missed-my)

 

Lance felt ready for this. He faced Keith and smirked when all Keith did was stare back at him.

 

"I told you to wear the clothes you fight in ..." Keith trailed off, his lips pulling downwards. "Seriously, Lance?"

 

Lance blinked. "What?" He glanced down at his sweatpants and shirt. Then he looked over at Hunk, who was sitting off to the side, cross-legged, with one of his knees bouncing up and down. Hunk shrugged at him and then motioned with one hand for Lance to  _focus._

 

"What's the deal?" Lance asked, since he was honestly at a loss. "There's nothing flashy going on here, man. Trust me, I thought about it, but I figured it would be bad, plus, they don't allow you anything in the ring other than clothes. Can't even wear shoes." Lance pointed down at his bare feet.

 

"I'll show you what the deal is, then," Keith said with finality, striking a fighting pose.

 

Lance barely had time to mirror him before Keith lunged. But Lance had learned in yesterday's training, had learned from his bout last night — he knew how to fall back, and flow into a punch aimed straight at Keith's side. However, somehow Keith knew that move was coming, and swiftly spun away; Lance's forward momentum carried him past Keith, who then reached out and snagged Lance's shirt, using it to brutally swing him around and  _toss him several feet away._

 

He hit the floor hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs. Lance whipped his head up, speaking between pained wheezes, "Holy ... crap ... Keith ...  _What the hell?"_

 

But Keith didn't answer him, stalking over with seemingly  _murderous_ intent.

 

Lance scrambled to his feet and used his forearms to block Keith's flying kick. He was still knocked back several steps, but at least he wasn't on the floor again. Keith smirked, which had Lance gritting his teeth, ready to yell out some kind of witty insult, but Keith didn't give him even half a chance. In less than a second, Lance found himself hunched over, gasping from a gut punch that had landed right in his sore side, and then Keith grabbed his shirt, yanking it over his head, blinding him ...  _smothering him._

 

Lance gasped, tapping out somewhere — on Keith's thigh, maybe — and then he was unceremoniously dropped to the floor.

 

Despite the ringing in his ears, his own loud inhales, Lance clearly heard a dry voice ask, "Why is Keith trying to murder Lance this time?"

 

"I haven't ever actually tried to kill Lance," Keith said to Pidge.

 

Lance rolled over onto his uninjured side, seeing that the Green Paladin had sprawled out next to Hunk, one of her made-from-scrap computers open in front of her. Hunk waved at her awkwardly, his eyes shooting from her to Lance, back and forth, rather frantic. Lance tried to make a subtle motion at Hunk to  _keep cool._

 

She raised an eyebrow at Lance. "I figured he wasn't  _actually_ trying to kill you. But point being, what brought on this latest bout of masochism?"

 

"Hey, what's with the attitude today?" Lance managed to push himself up into a sitting position. "Did you eat Snark Flakes for breakfast or something?"

 

"Breakfast of champions." Pidge pushed her glasses up her nose. "But, no, I'm just a little curious as to why you guys are scrambling around so much lately. Aren't Shiro, Coran, and Allura the ones dealing with all the diplomacy stuff this time?"

 

Once again, Hunk stared at Lance and Keith, mouthing something like  _do we tell her?_

 

Lance looked between his best friend and his former rival, and decided  _they_ were useless at lying. 

 

He put on his most charming smile. "I'm just really tired of Keith being the reigning ninja champ on the team, Pidge. I want him to teach me his ways, and I'm willing to take a beating for it. Though don't think I'll go down so easy next time!" Lance directed the last of this at Keith. He jumped to his feet, hiding a wince as he pulled on his bruised side.

 

Keith coughed a bit, likely laughing at Lance, though he put his game face back on a split second later. "Right. Well, did you understand the lesson about why loose clothes in an arena ... or any other kind of battle where you're caught without your armour ... Do you get why that's a bad idea?"

 

"I get it," Lance said shortly. "I guess the ... the people I've fought before,  _in battle,_  wouldn't have used a tactic like that."

 

"But not everyone is so nice and noble, Lance." Keith crossed his arms, his own T-shirt basically stuck to his skin. "So either get a tighter shirt or ... Yeah, just, get a tighter shirt. Something they can't get a grip on." His cheeks were already pink from exertion, even though, normally, Keith had all the stamina — but then again, he wasn't gulping down air like Lance was, so, yes, Keith was still annoyingly put-together.

 

"Well, I don't have a tighter shirt right now." Lance looked down, sighing. "And you've pretty much destroyed this one." He pointed at the tear in the hem and the stretched-out collar.

 

Without thinking too much, he quickly pulled the ruined shirt over his head, ignoring Pidge's cry of  _I didn't come here for that kind of show!_ and preening at Hunk's  _nice looking bod, buddy!_ He flexed a bicep in Hunk's direction, grinning when he got a whistle in response. Then he shivered because  _wow,_ the training deck was chillier than he'd realized.

 

"How come you can wear a shirt?" Lance accused Keith, pointing at the black t-shirt that Keith must have a dozen iterations of in his closet.

 

" _Lance,_ " Keith spat out. "Put ... I mean, no, you don't have to go  _shirtless,_ just ...  _I'll lend you a shirt._ Since you're ... You've got broader shoulders than me, it'll be plenty tight." Keith made a noise, his head falling back as he looked towards the ceiling, his gloved hands bracing his neck.

 

"Okay, okay, dude, sorry." Lance raised both his hands up in a placating gesture.

 

Keith seemed a little short tempered today, and that wasn't as usual for him as it used to be. But Lance didn't let himself jump to the worst conclusion, instead considered the fact that both Hunk and Keith were fussing over him the night before ... Keith was  _worried._ Maybe he was overcompensating with the brutal training today because he was _genuinely freaked out,_ just like Hunk.

 

Lance didn't quite know if he was warmed by this fact or offended that Keith didn't have as much faith in him. (Hunk was a ball of anxiety, but he was a ball of anxiety who also believed in Lance wholly and completely.)

 

He decided that none of this was relevant to the task at hand, and took up his basic fighting stance once more. "We'll just do shirts and skins for now, man.  _Dale!"_

 

Keith breathed out noisily and then said, "Okay."

 

There were no holds barred in the next few bouts. Hunk and Pidge started off cheering and booing certain moves, and then grew quiet as Keith increasingly upped the ante — and the harshness. At one point, Lance finally landed a blow that knocked Keith right off his feet, sending him crashing onto his back. Lance had to hold back a cheer himself as he rocked on his heels, arms up, waiting for Keith to come at him again.

 

Keith rubbed at his jaw and glared instead. "What are you doing?"

 

Lance blinked. He stared at his own fists, then back over to Keith. "Fighting?"

 

"Not right now you're not," Keith snapped. "Are you ... waiting for me to get back up?"

 

 _Oh. Right._ Lance had forgotten he wasn't supposed to do that. "Sorry for being nice?"

 

"Did you  _do this last ni—_ time, last time you fought an enemy?" Keith demanded.

 

"Maybe?" Lance hated how high and apologetic his voice sounded.

 

Keith lashed out with his feet — Lance thought that he'd been standing far enough away, but apparently not — and sent Lance down to join him on the floor.

 

" _Ow, holy crow, Keith!"_

 

"Never,  _never_ give your opponent a free shot like that." Keith rolled quickly before Lance could gain a breath, straddling him, his forearm nearly crushing Lance's windpipe. "Never. Lance, it could be the end of you.  _Do not do it._ "

 

"All right," Lance squeaked out. "All right!"

 

"Keith," Pidge said, sounding a little disconcerted. "Please let him breathe. Um, please? Hunk, why aren't you powering on in there?"

 

"Because ... I think Keith's right," he answered nervously, though with a hint of determination.

 

 _Thanks for the support, Hunk,_ Lance thought bitterly. But not really, no. Hunk was so worried for Lance, and, apparently, _Keith might be too_. And Lance had sought Keith out for a reason, right? _Right._ The lesson had been taught, and he would not be repeating this mistake if he could help it.

 

Keith was a lot heavier than he looked. Even when he finally lifted his arm, allowing Lance to desperately take in air again, Lance still had a little trouble getting a full lungful with Keith sitting on his stomach.

 

Lance raised his arms, pushing lightly at Keith's chest. "C'mon, man. Air is a thing I need."

 

Keith glanced down at the hands, and his grey-purple eyes widened. "R-right, sorry." He all but jumped off Lance, flying to his feet, scrubbing at the back of his neck.

 

That was the second time Keith had behaved in a bizarrely jittery way ... But Lance didn't have time to worry about Keith (though he did make a note for  _later_ ). He inhaled deeply, and then spoke calmly, "Okay. Let's do this."

 

He needed a quick half hour in the healing pod before lunch, but it was worth it. Keith had definitely made Lance a sharper fighter, and Lance wasn't going to be a pushover tonight. No, it was time for his second triumph.

 

******

 

Keith had maybe gone overboard with all the daggers he had concealed on his person.

 

However, he couldn't help but feel better about them once Hunk and Lance brought him to this seedy neighbourhood, the place where the cage fighting match was held.

 

The amount of people around him made him nervous, but it wasn't only the seething crowds that put him on edge, but also the number of concealed weapons he spotted, the hints of scarred flesh, and the desperation in various two-toned eyes.

 

A few times he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand, as though someone or something were near, but with nothing he could pinpoint. Most likely, his senses were heightened beyond reason, with all the threats pressing against him and the others.

 

He had to hold back an angry lecture when he thought of Lance and Hunk wandering this area without backup last night.

 

Keith hung back just far enough to see if anyone was watching Lance in particular — he didn't trust this boss to keep his word, to let Lance fight on his own merits. Especially now that Lance had won his first match.

 

No one seemed to be staring at Lance in a way that set off alarms in Keith ... Though there were a few interested,  _evaluating_ stares. He ignored those people — unless they got handsy, they weren't worth his attention, and anything they said, Lance could counter far more effectively than Keith could.

 

Keith spotted the two kids who must have been Ma'Adda and Ko'Lin; they were waiting outside of their apartment and playing with a small rubber ball.

 

As soon as he saw the Paladins on the approach, Ko'Lin ran towards Hunk and Lance, taking a flying leap and landing in Hunk's arms. When the Yellow Paladin swung him up onto his shoulders, the little boy reached over to pat Lance's hair, saying, "Wow, you look better!"

 

"I've got good people taking care of me," Lance said, smiling brightly at Hunk. He then pointed towards Keith, saying, "Hey, have you met the  _original_ Red Paladin and sometimes Black Paladin of Voltron?"

 

Ma'Adda walked over to him shyly, waving one of her hands. "Hello, Paladin Keith."

 

"Just Keith is fine," he told her, uncomfortable with the blatant hero worship in her eyes.

 

"Is Keith coming too?" Ko'Lin asked, one of his hands buried in Hunk's hair to keep himself balanced. "Because you can't have more than three guests, Lance."

 

"Yeah, buddy, I'm afraid one of you is gonna have to stay home," Lance said apologetically. "Neither of these two will be nice and stay behind."

 

Ma'Adda hesitated, looking between Hunk, Lance, and Keith. For whatever reason, she stared at Keith the longest, and he stared back at her, unsure why this kid was giving him such an intense look. Then she said, "Ko'Lin can go. I'll stay home, keep an eye on mom."

 

"Really?" Ko'Lin chattered excitedly. "Really, really?"

 

His older sister laughed, waving them off. "Yes, really, really. You're with the Paladins of Voltron, so I know you'll be safe."

 

Her eyes rested on Keith again, and now he understood. He nodded once, and she gave him a small smile. Suddenly, she didn't seem so young, and that made her less of a mystery to Keith. His heart twisted a little in his chest at the connection he felt — the kinship of two kids who never really got the chance to be kids.

 

He sucked in a deep breath, turning to Lance. "We going?"

 

"Yeah," Lance said. He bent down to hug Ma'Adda, lifting her and spinning her around a few times. "Ko'Lin is gonna have another story of victory to tell you when he gets home!"

 

She hugged him tightly around the neck, letting go only once Lance had set her back down on her feet. She brushed back strands of dark hair, saying, "Good luck! Come back home safe!"

 

They left her lingering by the entrance to the building. Keith glanced over his shoulder to watch her go inside once Lance, Hunk, and Ko'Lin turned the corner to head further up the busy street. It took only ten or so minutes to reach their main destination — a non-descript building that Keith really couldn’t imagine holding massive crowds for these supposedly popular matches.

 

A well-muscled bouncer stood by the door, and he grinned at Lance as they drew nearer. "Well, hello there, Paladin. I lost myself some money last night thanks to you."

 

Keith tensed up, but Lance only laughed. "You seem strangely happy about that."

 

"That's because I like the sting of defeat right before a major windfall." He opened the door just barely enough for them all to squeeze through. "I won't say where my coin is going tonight. Don’t want you deliberately throwing the match if you think it'll suit you. Again."

 

" _Again,"_ Keith hissed, once they were heading down some old and noisy stairs. "What did he mean,  _again._ Lance—"

 

"Oh, that's part of why we're in this mess," Hunk said with false cheer. "Night before last, Lance put a lot of money on the other guy, and then lost on purpose. Boss dude said he was cool with it as long as Lance finishes out the contract, but I'm thinking there's some kind of vengeance in the works."

 

Lance smacked Hunk in the shoulder once they hit the bottom of the steps. "Hey! It all worked out in the end!"

 

"Maybe," Hunk retorted. "You're an awesome fighter, Lance, but I wouldn't put it past these people to, you know,  _cheat._ "

 

Keith was currently caught up in contemplating what  _Lance deliberately losing a cage match_ might look like; he found himself having to clench both his fists and grind his teeth practically into dust to keep from unleashing hell. He didn't need this now. Not right before a match.

 

Instead, he inhaled and exhaled deeply three times. He walked over to Lance, grabbing him by the elbow before he could disappear into a hallway that probably led to the prep rooms, or showers, or whatever it was that they had here. Lance hiked his bag of clothes further up his shoulder, tilting his head at Keith in question.

 

"What's up, man?" he asked, sounding confused and mildly concerned.

 

"Just ... Watch out for your right side. Don't launch yourself unless you're  _sure_ they're gonna go down. And if they do go down,  _do not—"_

 

"—let them get back up," Lance finished, an indulgent little half-smile on his face. Keith could see the shift from  _goofy, charming Lance_  to  _fierce (arrogant) fighter Lance_  happening right before his eyes. "I'll make you proud, Keith."

 

That had him swallowing hard, a surge of warmth that tingled from the hand holding Lance's arm ( _still holding Lance's arm_ ) all the way to his scalp. He let go quickly, nodding once and turning on his heel without anything else said.

 

While Hunk and Lance exchanged a few words, Keith finally paid some attention to his surroundings ( _idiot,_ heshouldn't ever let his guard down).

 

The whole basement was way,  _way_ bigger than he thought it would be. Already the make-shift arena buzzed with noise, the commotion a mixture of arguments, premature cheering, vendors selling snacks, and the announcer testing out his microphone.

 

Hunk pointed towards the middle of the stands. "That's where we sat last time, and it was a decent view. C'mon."

 

Keith let himself be led, edgy in the midst of the multitude who kept standing up and wandering, greeting old friends or fighting with people they may or may not know. The amount of noise, interspersed with words he recognized, terms that his translator couldn't parse out, and vaguely threatening phrases that caused him to stare at those who spoke them — it was all bound to give him a headache. However, the roar of a crowd united for (or against) a fighter — that would be easier to drown out than the hints of  _fine piece of Paladin meat_ and  _dead tonight for sure_ and  _put my money on some dismemberment._

 

Sure enough, when the announcer boomed at everyone to take their seats, the indistinct rush of sound was a relief.

 

Hunk and Ko'Lin cheered, though Hunk leaned into Keith's space, whisper-shouting, " _This is probably some of the most stressful crap I have ever been through."_

 

Keith found himself gripping the hilt of his dagger at his back, watching with laser focus as the lights over the audience dimmed and the ones over the cage brightened.

 

The announcer cleared his throat obnoxiously before shouting, " _Today, on the second round of Final Elimination, we have seen fifteen bloody excellent matches. But now, now comes the one that has maxed out the bets, that has brought on folks who just want to see this and this fight only! To see a saviour of the universe who has dirtied his hands!"_

 

The chanting started then, " _Pa-La-Din Lance! Pa-La-Din Lance!"_

 

_"First, we have his challenger ... The inescapably supersonic ... Ka'Ursu!"_

 

Ko'Lin gasped. "She once ate someone's fingers!"

 

Hunk flinched hard, then smiled nervously. "You mean she once  _bit_ someone's fingers?"

 

"Yeah, and then she  _ate them,_ " Ko'Lin said in a loud voice, just over the noise of the crowd.

 

Keith stared as a woman, tall, lithely muscled, and with long,  _sharp_ claws, entered from one side of the stadium. The people nearest reached out to her, kept at bay by the huge bodyguards, as she made her way to the cage. She took a flying leap, landing  _above_ the door, and slid in. Under the bright lights, Keith could see her dark green skin was tattooed, starting at the back of her shaved head and moving down her spine, though he couldn't make out the precise pattern. Her clothes were nothing more than skin-tight shorts and an equally tight half shirt. Her eyes glinted, and Keith glanced up at a screen to meet the orange-brown gaze just as she grinned, revealing a set of sharp white teeth.

 

He could take her, if it came down to it — but getting to the cage,  _through_ the thick metal links, to reach Lance ...

 

" _And now, our noble yet flawed Hero of Ga'Ulin — the man who bested our monk with dignity and sportsmanship. Will his courtly manners serve him now?"_ The crowd answered with screams and throaty yells. " _We shall see as we welcome ... Paladin Lance!"_

 

The chanting started up again, and Keith had to stand up to see Lance over the hands waving in the air. Even then, he could only just make out pieces — Lance’s hands waving back, a flash of a smile, a hint of his black shirt.

 

When Lance reached the cage, he leapt up to swing on the open door, sending a dramatic flying kiss into the crowd behind him. The reception was pandemonium.

 

"This is ..." Keith trailed off, not sure what to think (other than  _how is Lance always so good at getting the crowd on his side?_ ) or feel (other than stomach-twisting apprehension).

 

Lance hopped into the cage, not flinching as the door was slammed shut by a couple of stagehands, who then secured it with what looked like an old fashioned padlock.

 

Lance looked different — his hairstyle seemed better suited for a ballroom than a knock-down-drag-out cage match. He was wearing one of Keith's shirts, and a pair of pants that might have been leather. Keith had no clue where  _those_ had come from, but the entire outfit, the _whole_ look was just ... Keith smashed a fist into his thigh.  _Stupid. Focus. Focus on the fight. Focus on the threats._

 

Lance gave a smug little salute to his opponent, opening his mouth to say something — equal chances that it was going to be either a boast or a pickup line.

 

Keith regained his concentration when Ka'Ursu slashed at Lance with a clawed foot. Lance dodged. Or rather, Lance  _tried_ to dodge, but she was so  _fast_.

 

Blood splattered onto the mat.

 

******

 

Lance didn't have time to scream in pain, though his upper back was  _screaming_ at him to  _stop, no, no more_.

 

He rolled away from a second lash of her foot, and then gripped the metal of the cage to lift himself up, and up even higher as she rushed towards him. Lance kicked her directly in the side of the head, and when she staggered, he used the grip of both hands around the cage as a brace, so his legs could wrap around her neck. He then pushed off the cage _as hard as he could,_ his full body weight falling on her head.

 

They fell onto the mat tangled together. Lance brought his elbow down into her stomach just as his legs released their chokehold. She roared in rage, and those claws swiped at him twice in less than a second, it felt like, or even  _faster._

 

But Lance wasn't still, no, he had to keep moving, had to keep flowing into each new attack, like Keith did, like Keith had tried to teach him. He'd seen Keith run from one end of a hallway to another, with over a dozen guard drones in his way. Without missing a beat, without a single noticeable pause, Keith would make it to the other side, and all the drones would be left in  _pieces_ behind him.

 

Lance did his best to emulate that, and Ka'Ursu provided him with  _excellent_ motivation, since any hesitation on his part meant being  _eviscerated._ This was  _nothing_ like his fight from last night. This was pure, gut instinct — undiluted  _survival of the fittest._

 

She hadn't said a word, only sliced and kicked and punched at him. Her limbs were a blur. Lance would let some blows land just for a chance at getting in closer for hits of his own.

 

He noticed that a few punches to her side, just above her hip, had her wheezing, and he suddenly remembered that from fighting To'Edrun. He couldn't reach that pressure point behind her knees, but Ka'Ursu had a weakness that Lance recognized well — she left her non-dominant side  _open._

 

With a fierce grin, he shifted his stance and weighed his blows more heavily on her right side. He wasn't anywhere near as fast as her, and he had to blink away blood from a glancing blow across his forehead, but he remained  _focused._ He locked in on that weak spot and refused to let up. 

 

A hoarse yell filled his ears, and he shortly realized that it was his own — a scorching, brutal war cry as he caught her clawed hands before they could sink into his neck. Simultaneously, he brought his knee up for devastating contact against that tender area above her hip. She screamed and crumpled, hands clutching her side.

 

Lance had a moment, a millisecond of reluctance, since she was in so much pain; curled in the fetal position, shivering, and had he  _really_ done that to someone? But she was down, and that meant Lance had basically won, he just had to ... 

 

Except that  _down_  did not mean _out_ for Ka'Ursu, and in a blink, those claws were in his calf and  _ripping._

 

His scream of agony didn't fill his ears so much as deafen them, but he couldn't risk her getting up,  _no, Keith's here, he'll kill me if she kills me,_ was all he could think clearly, outside of  _madre, no quiero morir aquí._

 

He clasped his hands to form a giant fist, smashing it with all his remaining strength into her side as he collapsed.

 

The lights burned his eyes. The cage was opening. He'd won, right? 

 

The crowd, a few thousand voices chanting, " _Pa-La-Din Lance! Pa-La-Din Lance!"_

 

Rough hands gripped his shoulders, hauling him into a seated position. The many cuts on him burned, particularly the deep ones in his back, and he didn't even want to look at his leg. But the people were hollering for him — Hunk and Keith were there, probably freaking the hell out — and Lance couldn't let them down. He had to be the Paladin. He had to stand up.

 

The stagehands and medics were muttering something in his ears, but he didn't care. Lance gritted his teeth and used the medics as support to pull himself up, and then ... He nearly face planted. _Huh,_ the mat was more red than white right now.

 

Getting his good leg to hold him steady, keeping his weight (his gaze) off his ruined leg, he clenched his jaw, swallowed down bile, lifted his head ... and raised one fist.

 

The chanting dissolved into raucous, indecipherable noise, louder than ever.

 

His thoughts came rushing back — he hadn't been  _thinking_ during that fight, just _acting._ Moving, hitting, ducking, rolling, and now, clear thought emerged.  _Holy shit._ He had nearly lost a leg, but he'd  _freaking_ won  _again._ He smiled through the blood, eyes seeking his friends, but ... They weren't in the same spot?

 

"Oh my god, oh my god, Lance, we gotta get you back to the Castle," Hunk blathered, his arm coming around Lance's waist.

 

"Whoa," Lance breathed out, the world spinning. "What in the ..." Hadn't he just been in the cage? When did he get to the locker room?

 

"Keith, do you have his stuff?" Hunk called.

 

"Lance, you were  _amazing!"_ Ko'Lin said breathlessly. "Lance, you beat her and she didn't get a single bite, not one!"

 

"Right, yay me!" Lance grinned, trying to meet Ko'Lin's eyes though he looked very blurry around the edges.

 

Ko'Lin smiled back, and then put a small hand on Lance's side, a feather light touch. "You were really, really amazing, but now you gotta go home. Use your magic and heal so you can come back, right?"

 

"We'll see about that," Keith said gruffly. "Hunk, we need to get the hell out. Now."

 

Keith was carrying Lance's bag, and he looked exceptionally pale, even though his expression was its usual neutral, vaguely annoyed ... Except no, Keith wasn't like that, not really.

 

Lance knew better, he did, but he was very dizzy right now. "Hey, Keith, you're not that ... guy. Not, anymore. Or maybe I just noticed that you weren't _that guy_  all the time. Maybe you were always pretty awesome." 

 

All he got in return was a very confused stare, and Lance just had to give up on words for now. He tried for a smile and a wink, but Keith just blinked very quickly and looked away. Maybe Lance had made a stupid face instead? Well, Keith probably got it anyway; Lance was his right-hand man, after all. Keith understood him better now, though maybe not as well as Hunk did.

 

Speaking of Hunk — there was  _something_ he had to tell his best friend; he'd made a mental note of it before the match. But then Ka'Ursu had totally wiped his mind clean of anything other than  _survival,_ so Lance had to concentrate very hard right now to remember ...

 

"Ja'Delan wasn't there, Hunk," Lance slurred up at his best friend. "He didn't come to see me before the match. Suspicious."

 

He hadn't particularly wanted to see the boss, but he did find it weird that the guy wasn't keeping personal tabs on Lance tonight — that seemed to be the kind of thing he wouldn't miss out on.

 

Despite the persistent dizziness, Lance made a point to keep his eyes open, to try and keep alert despite his not-fully-functioning brain. (Did Ka'Ursu nail him in the head too? It was entirely possible Lance had blanked on that.)

 

"We're gonna get you home, buddy, it'll be fine," Hunk said. He swept Lance up into his arms, carrying him outside, using a back entrance Lance hadn't even noticed.

 

The air was cool. That was nice. What wasn't nice was the heart attack that Lance had when someone yelped  _incredibly loudly and closely_ to his ear, followed by a stream of words, nearly too fast to comprehend, and that was ... that was  _Pidge._

 

_"What the quiznaking hell happened? Hunk, get him on this speeder, now!"_

 

******

 

Pidge knew she would be following them as soon as she finished watching the training session between Lance and Keith that morning.

 

Hunk had deflected all of her questions as to  _why_ Lance had suddenly decided to take this up. When asked, Lance had not given her a satisfactory answer either. She had no reasonable theories as to why Lance had come back to the Castle late two nights in a row, the new training, Hunk being evasive, and now, Keith getting dragged into it all ... Thus, when Lance announced he'd be heading back into the city, this time with Hunk  _and_ Keith?

 

 _Of course_ she had to find out what the hell was going on.

 

Lance had placated Shiro and Allura with some explanation involving visiting a family who needed help, babysitting kids ... While Lance was definitely the sort to do that, she knew _something_  was off. Hunk wouldn't be so nervous. Keith wouldn't be so grim. Lance wouldn't be so very, very excited.

 

Also, she had some new stealth gear she wanted to test out, so dual purposes were being served, and Pidge did like efficiency.

 

She had her own speeder, a miniaturized stealth engine, and a sleek little set of wristbands that would (hopefully) cloak her from sight. She still hadn't quite figured out how to dampen any sounds she made, but she was able to track Lance, Hunk, and Keith as they headed out, all of them none-the-wiser.

 

The family part of Lance's story had been somewhat true. But then Pidge watched in confusion as they left the little girl behind.

 

They headed out, with the tiny brother, towards a place that screamed  _dangerous, not good, crime happens here._ To be fair,  _most_ of this area had that visible disclaimer, but Pidge didn't understand what in the hell Lance and the others were thinking, bringing a child into a place guarded by a mean-looking, well-armed bouncer.

 

She tried to sneak in, but the guard was smart, placing himself in front of the open door, allowing the people only  _just_  enough space to squeeze past him, once he decided they were worthy of entry. He would definitely feel it if Pidge tried to push herself through, and so she settled for walking the perimeter, looking for any other way inside.

 

She ended up finding a few back entrances, but they were locked  _and_ barred. Forcing her way in would make noise, and she had no clue what lay beyond. She huffed to herself, annoyed, and waited to see if maybe someone would leave, and thereby give her an opportunity. She had time to call her speeder, and it hovered above her somewhere, hidden, untraceable, though the hum of the engine was audible.

 

An hour later, she heard the sound of a door being unlocked — she rushed over, just in time to see Keith holding the door open, the little boy at his side. 

 

She skidded to a stop, nearly colliding with Hunk ... Who was carrying Lance. Lance, who was  _bloody and clawed up and his leg, quiznak, his leg ..._

 

"What the quiznaking hell happened? Hunk, get him on this speeder, now!"

 

With the push of a button, Pidge was uncloaked, and a second push de-cloaked the speeder, bringing it down behind her.

 

Hunk squealed, cradling Lance even closer, protective. Keith had jumped in front of them, shoving the boy behind him; his Blade of Marmora dagger activated and pointed at Pidge. She flinched, but didn't take a step back. Rather, she straightened her shoulders and glared, even as her heart sped up painfully. Lance was  _turning grey_  ...

 

"Pidge?" Hunk gasped, relaxing minutely. "What—"

 

"Pidge!" Lance crowed, smiling, but his eyes couldn't quite focus, so any charm was utterly lost on Pidge. Not to mention the fact that Lance was  _covered in blood. And pale. And his leg ..._

 

"No, forget it, explanations later. Castle,  _now._ " Pidge hopped into the driver's seat of the speeder, kicking the door open on the passenger side for Hunk and Lance.

 

"Hunk, get Lance back," Keith instructed. "I'll take Ko'Lin home."

 

Keith still had a hint of Black Paladin in him. For whatever reason, that flash of authority reassured Pidge, her panic over Lance easing microscopically as she began preparing to take off. Keith moved with purpose, not a single hesitation in his motions as he picked up the little boy and directed Hunk to the speeder. He spared only one glance towards Lance.

 

The lack of extreme reactions meant that whatever  _this_  was, it couldn't be too disastrous. Though Lance's leg did make Pidge want to throw up.

 

"I'll meet you at the healing wing," Keith told her just before she took off.

 

She concentrated on keeping her speeder cloaked and not crashing into anybody who couldn't see her (the downside of being practically invisible). The result of this was that she couldn't redirect energy towards interrogating Hunk and Lance. The two of them were distracted as well, to be fair — Hunk kept asking Lance questions about himself, checking for a concussion, keeping Lance alert. Lance answered readily, but Pidge heard the strain in his voice. She inhaled slowly and increased the engine speed.

 

When Hunk paused to come up with more questions, Lance said, "That was intense. But you know what? It felt  _good,_ Hunk. When I knew that I'd won? I felt freaking  _fantastic._ "

 

"Keith nearly stabbed me with his dagger," Hunk said darkly. "When she got your leg? I risked my life to keep him in the stands."

 

"He wouldn't have messed up my fight," Lance dismissed. "I mean, I get the gut instinct to help a teammate in trouble, but Keith's cool. He knows the score."

 

Pidge pulled up to the Castle, decloaked the ship, and then hopped out to help Hunk open the door so he could keep carrying Lance. She nearly tripped over her own feet in her hurry, and then again when she chased after Hunk, who ran ahead and then startled into a halt when Lance said,  _hold on, Hunk, no, wait!_

 

Pidge caught up to them, opening her mouth to demand that they keep moving, when Lance craned his head to look at her.

 

"Could you, um, check that the coast is clear?" Lance asked Pidge, smiling sheepishly.

 

His eyes were very wide and very blue, and Pidge  _did not fall for puppy eyes,_ except, apparently, when they came from one of her best friends while he was drenched in blood and missing a chunk of his leg.

 

She stuck a finger in his face. "Explanations are forthcoming, yes?" She softened her words with a smile, an expression she hoped was both reassuring and scolding — because she was feeling  _a lot of things at once._

 

Lance nodded eagerly, wincing as he did so, and he looked nothing close to healthy at this point. Pidge hurried to ensure no one was around to see them make a mad dash towards the cryo-pods.

 

By the time Keith returned, Lance was ten doboshes into a six varga stay in the pod, and Hunk had explained to Pidge what, exactly, they'd been up to the past two nights.

 

"This is not good," Pidge said, just as Keith entered the room. "This is very much  _not_ good. Lance, only Lance could find this kind of trouble."

 

She mulled over the unfortunately very solid point against rounding up Ja'Delan and his thugs — they didn't have time to find all the threads of his web, and just like with a spider web, one tug sent sensations rippling out to  _everyone_ in it, instantly. Pidge could only get so far into the unravelling before death would strike.

 

Keith confirmed her suspicions as he sighed and hopped onto a nearby gurney, fingers grasping the edge in a white-knuckled grip. "Listen, Pidge, I've pulled ops with the Blade of Marmora that involved taking apart a few  _small_  Galran spy cells on not fully conquered worlds. It takes  _weeks, if not months_ to uncover everyone. It's slow, careful work. One mistake, and _everyone_ vanishes,   and you have to start from scratch." Here Keith offered up a self-deprecating half smile. "Actually, they only let me work two of those ops before they ... suggested I was better suited for other kinds of work."

 

"Blew it up both times, huh?" Pidge guessed with a grin. "Literally, I'm guessing."

 

"Only in  _one_ of those cases," Keith defended himself, but he snorted a little as she laughed at him.

 

"Back to our current situation ... Lance  _has_  been winning," Hunk said hopefully, though he was also caught up in staring at all the blood staining his clothes, his skin taking on a sickly pallor not unlike Lance's had been. "But it's been pretty scary all through out. If you have any ideas, Pidge, that don't involve a family and everyone they care about dying, or Lance getting maimed in a freaking fight club ..."

 

She shook her head. "No, not right now at least." Pidge adjusted her glasses, chewing on her lower lip. "I need more data. I'm coming with you tomorrow. I need to have a good look around, maybe spy on some people ... My stealth gear passed its first field test. I'll do some recalibrating during the day, and then join you guys at night. You won't even know I'm there. Well, no, you  _will_ since you need to get me inside,but other than that ..."

 

"Pidge, you cannot get caught, it would be incredibly bad — maybe even lethal — for you and everyone tangled up in this," Keith said, his eyes dark and searching. "Are you  _sure_ your tech is solid?"

 

"Solid enough for this," she said truthfully. Especially once she adjusted for all the new information she’d accrued tonight. "Tell me everything you know about Ja'Delan. He'll be who I try to spy on."

 

Hunk laid out what intel they had (which was next to nothing), and so Pidge made a note to hack a few databases, maybe see if she could pin down this guy's identity and any criminal records. It would be a start, though it may not help Lance at all for his next round.

 

Hunk, Keith, and Pidge discussed a few ideas for the plan tomorrow — and how to keep Shiro (and the others) off the scent. Pidge could ask Matt to help keep them distracted. Matt would trust her enough to not ask too many questions. There was a chance Matt would demand answers afterwards, but she had the better pokerface of the two of them; she could keep this secret for a few days. Just three more matches.

 

"Okay, I think that's it for tonight." Keith massaged the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders as well. "I need to get decent enough sleep so I can kick Lance's ass again, and teach him how _not_ to let me do that."

 

"I'll set my alarm so I can be here to get Lance to his room before anyone sees him in here," Hunk offered. "Pidge, you need to sleep too. You gotta be awake enough to deal with reprogramming, hacking, and your brother. I can do this."

 

Pidge closed her mouth, rescinding her offer to stay up before she'd even had a chance to make it. "All right, Hunk. Wake us up if anything happens."

 

"Like what?" Hunk asked tiredly. "Lance is in the pod, he can't get into any more trouble in there."

 

"Well, if anyone could ..." Keith muttered as he began to walk out.

 

Pidge elbowed him as he passed her. "Pot, kettle."

 

Keith gave her the finger, Pidge flipped him back with two hands, and Hunk pushed at them both, chuckling a bit as he said. "Okay, okay, kids, bedtime now."

 

"Night!" Pidge called over her shoulder as she exited the healing wing.

 

Keith trailed next to her for a bit, seeming rather lost in thought.

 

Pidge studied his profile, that furrow in his brow, and asked, "Do you think Lance can win?"

 

He came to a stop, staring at her for a moment, but she had the impression he wasn't quite seeing her. "I do. But it won't be easy. Especially if he keeps hesitating, or trying to play the noble hero. That act of his, it's going to get him killed."

 

"Except it's not an act," Pidge corrected him. "Lance is a boastful dork, but he's become an amazing Paladin. Especially when he was your second-in-command."

 

"I ... I know," Keith said quietly. "I just meant ... He tries too hard, sometimes. Though, he needed to with me."

 

Pidge elbowed him again, more powerfully this time, and actually catching Keith off-guard. He coughed out a breath, wheezing a little as he glared at her from beneath his fringe.

 

She arched an eyebrow, very much unapologetic. " _You're_ a noble hero too, jerk. We're really happy you're back. And not just because you saved us all from Clone Shiro."

 

"Lance helped too," Keith rushed to say, then turned oddly pink. "Let's go to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be ... very long."

 

She gave him a smile and a salute as she split off towards her room. Once inside, with all her knick-knacks, Rover prototypes, and pets, Pidge relaxed. Then all the exhaustion hit at once, heavy and shocking. She all but collapsed onto her bed, carefully removing the stealth wristbands, carelessly kicking off her shoes, and burying herself deep within her blankets and pillows. Sleep arrived swiftly, microseconds after she'd curled up comfortably.

 

(Right before lucidity abandoned her, she promised herself to see Lance through this, no matter what it took. This was her family, and between her, Hunk, and Keith, there was a level of skill that made her proud to call them her fellow Paladins, and a level of care that made them her brothers in all but blood. The ridiculous dunderheads should've come to her right away, though, and she would absolutely rub it in their faces later  _when — there was no "if" —_  she helped Lance survive through to the end of this tournament.)

 

******

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowed down a little now, but I'm still writing quickly without thinking too much — it's exhilarating, but also rather worrisome for someone like me who typically edits like mad before posting. Thank you again to everyone who reads, to all of you who encourage me, and just in general, for being awesome :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is finally hit with the brutal reality of cage-fighting against bloodthirsty folks who don't care about honour. Pidge is working to dig up information about Ja'Delan. Shiro is now becoming very concerned about his fellow Paladins ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheee, another chapter! Angst kicks up a bit, and so does the violence — disclaimers all around! Also, wow, this got a little long on me, and I got stuck once or twice while writing, so there are bits I'm not totally okay with, but hopefully y'all can still have fun with it :)

 

Lance shivered as he fell out of the healing pod.

 

Hunk caught him in his bulky arms, warm and welcoming. Lance curled up against his best friend, desperate for the familiar contact. He’d never had weird dreams in the pods before, but last night ... Last night his mind had replayed, over and  _over_ again, his leg being shredded by sharp claws. Even fully healed, he still felt a phantom pain in those muscles — like a cramp, tight and excruciating.

 

"Hey, buddy." Hunk released the embrace to hold him at arms' length, staring into his eyes intently. "You okay?"

 

Lance swallowed once and then nodded. His eyes felt wider than they should be, shudders spreading sporadically throughout his limbs. "I ... I'm good, man." He cleared his throat. "Right as rain."

 

"Sure," Hunk said dubiously. "That wasn't a good match last night, Lance."

 

"Wow, right out the gate with that, huh?" Lance exhaled loudly. “I _won_ , in case you missed it."

 

"Yeah, you fought hard, and that part was good, but ... you also didn't ..." Hunk wrung his hands as he walked next to Lance, heading to the kitchen. "When you have your training this morning ... Could you  _please_ listen to whatever Keith tells you? He might be a bit annoyed, and I know that gets under your skin sometimes, even now that you're friends, but please, _please_ …”

 

"Hunk, buddy, I hear you." Lance released a slow breath. "Trust me, I definitely don't want a repeat of last night. Other than the winning part, that is."

 

They settled in the kitchen for breakfast, Hunk going out of his way to cook up a storm. Lance wasn't actually feeling that hungry, but he made a point to scarf down at least half of the feast Hunk had created. Keith came in just as Lance polished off his morning milkshake, grateful to Hunk for learning how to make these nearly as well as Lance did. Keith sat down in the chair opposite him, his arms crossed.

 

"Is this the lecture part of my morning?" Lance asked, going for a light tone. "Cool. Let's get this over with before training."

 

"Pretty sure that anything I say won't be nearly as effective as  _nearly getting your leg torn off._ " Keith's eyes bored into his, and Lance held the gaze with difficulty.

 

"I ... admit that was a mistake on my part," Lance said slowly.

 

"And it's not going to happen again."

 

Keith seemed far more serious today than he had yesterday. Sometimes, after close calls, he would mock Lance, and since Lance no longer felt a (conscious) need to show Keith up, he would launch a few insults of his own; they would laugh it off and move on.

 

Not this time.

 

"Trust me, it won't be a thing," Lance said determinedly. "I can make it through this." This was his choice, his way of saving Ko'Lin and Ma'Adda from a motherless existence. His way of keeping them out of the line of fire. He could do it for them. Even if his knees were shaking at the thought of going back into that cage tonight ...

 

"Good. I'll meet you on the training deck in an hour." Keith snagged a plate Lance hadn't touched, piled high with Hunk's delicious waffles, and stormed out of the kitchen.

 

Lance blinked. "I feel like I'm in for a serious ass-kicking."

 

Hunk sat down next to Lance, putting down a plate of his own breakfast so he could wrap an arm around Lance's shoulders. "Yeah. But if it's an ass-kicking that spares you getting maimed or killed later tonight ..."

 

"Yeah, yeah." Lance sighed, but oddly enough, he felt a cool sense of relief thanks to the fire he'd seen in Keith's eyes. "I'll take it like a Paladin."

 

******

 

Keith stood over Lance, holding himself up with the staff he'd been using to beat some sense into the other Paladin. He had given himself a workout today — but he couldn't let up. His mind's eye kept flashing to that moment when Lance had screamed in agony, his leg in literal  _shreds._

 

_No. Not going to happen. Not again._

 

They'd trained with blunted swords for a short while (but Keith had been helping Lance with his sword bayard form for a few months now, and Lance was actually acceptably skilled with it), and then moved on to short daggers and staffs.

 

It was well past lunch time, and Lance probably needed to eat, though right now he seemed content to lie on the floor and gasp for air.

 

"Wow, you guys were not pulling any punches today."

 

Lance's eyes widened up at Keith, who froze for a second before turning his head to stare at Shiro.

 

Shiro smiled at them, that touch of uncertainty still present — like he was unsure if he was welcome — and pointed up towards the observation deck. "I watched for a bit. You two work well together, and Lance, your close combat technique is becoming exceptional. You've taught him well, Keith."

 

Keith tried to remember if he and Lance had said anything about the fight club during this training session, but he couldn't think of anything. Mostly it had been brisk instructions followed by near ceaseless sparring. They paused to change weapons, but other than that ... Lance had been good, had been so focused that Keith was almost alarmed at seeing his own determination mirrored back at him.

 

Shiro stood awkwardly by the door, looking poised to leave. Keith didn't want him to feel like he didn’t belong (except that they really,  _really_ didn't want him to know what they were up to). "Hey, Shiro, um ... Did you want to join?"

 

Lance started to shake his head at Keith, and then seemed to change his mind part way, catching sight of the way Shiro cringed back slightly.

 

Shiro spoke quietly, "I'm not sure that's a good idea ..."

 

"Nah, it would be great!" Lance chirped, sitting up and facing him with a too-bright smile. "You're an amazing fighter, and if I'm ever going to stand a chance at kicking  _his_ butt, I need to get some advice from one of the few people who can."

 

The clone had been nearly as good as Shiro. Nearly. He had lacked the spark of creativity that made Shiro particularly dangerous. And the poor guy hadn't really wanted to fight them, deep down. Despite the Galra conditioning and magicks, he was still a version of Shiro, and Shiro couldn't bear to hurt anyone he cared about. The real Shiro had been horrified when they'd told him (reluctantly, once he had insisted) all the damage the clone had done. He'd been especially apologetic to Lance, who had borne the brunt of it.

 

Now, Shiro seemed incredibly grateful for Lance's words, though he still looked wary. "If you'd like, I could give you a few tips. Keith, take a breather, drink some water."

 

Shiro led Lance to another corner of the room, and Keith walked over to where he'd tossed his jacket and boots, picking up his water bottle and chugging half of it in one go.

 

Hunk came skidding in just as Keith was wiping his mouth with a gloved hand.

 

"Guys, I think I saw ..." Hunk trailed off when he saw Shiro and Lance conversing. "Oh. Okay. Never mind then."

 

Keith sighed, walking over to Hunk so he could mutter, "Thanks for trying to warn us. But I think it's fine. He doesn't seem to be suspicious."

 

Hunk actually seemed to deflate a little at that. "Right. Sorry. Just ... I sort of wish he had figured it out. I promised Lance I wouldn't say anything, but since you and Pidge are in on it now ... I feel better. If we had Shiro in on it ... I would feel  _a lot_ better."

 

"Lance is winning," Keith reminded him. "And once this is over, we'll tell the rest. But for now, we all promised Lance to help him through this. If he can stand his ground against me, he can stand his ground in that cage."

 

Hunk straightened, nodding once. "Right. Right. I know that. He's been incredible. And you've been awesome, teaching him to fight in ways that'll keep him alive and in one piece. Thanks."

 

"No thanks needed, he's my friend, too," Keith said, though his traitorous skin chose that moment to warm along his cheeks and ears. "I don't want to see him get hurt anymore than you do."

 

"Oh yeah, I got that last night when you nearly skewered me." Hunk grinned. "No hard feelings."

 

Then his friendly expression faded, and in place was a pensive look — one that got Keith's back up. Pidge and Hunk had very similar expressions when they thought they were onto something, and more often than not, their hunches were  _right._ Keith was not ready for this discussion, and thankfully, Shiro called Keith over right then.

 

"All right, Keith! One last match? Lance has some new tricks up his sleeve!"

 

Lance smirked, bouncing on his bare feet as if he wasn't exhausted down to his bones. "That's right, dude. One last match, for honour and glory!"

 

Keith rolled his eyes, but he was also smiling. "Fine."

 

Without waiting for Lance or Shiro to give the word, he launched himself towards Lance.

 

Shiro dove out of the way, laughing as he went.

 

Lance rolled backwards, leaping up onto his feet, his fists raised. Keith swung out with his leg — and Lance caught it, using it to flip Keith onto his back. But Keith had sparred with Shiro often enough to know how to counter that move, and he'd somersaulted to his feet before Lance could pin him. 

 

Keith didn't see the next flip coming.

 

Lance lunged towards him, but he wasn't close enough to tackle Keith — which was why Keith was caught off-guard when he realized Lance had instead dove into a headstand. The realization came too late, as Lance used his long legs to wrap around Keith's neck and somehow flip him head over heels.

 

Dazed for only a split second, Keith tried to leap back onto his feet, but Lance flipped back over and had one of Keith's arms and legs in a tight hold, keeping Keith down in an awkward position.

 

Unable to gain purchase on the smooth floor, Keith huffed out a laugh, tapping twice. "All right, you win."

 

Lance jumped up, crowing with both fists in the air, "The  _champ is here!"_

 

Keith just crossed his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. "I'll be on the lookout for your stupidly flexible legs next time." He nearly bit his tongue off once those words fell out, but if he kept his nonchalant expression in place, everything would be  _fine._

 

Shiro appeared in his field of vision, and he had one eyebrow arched in a significant way, his mouth twitching as though he were holding back laughter of his own. Keith scowled, holding up a hand, which Shiro took to pull him to his feet.

 

Lance had rushed over to Hunk by this point, and Keith watched from the corner of his eye as Hunk swung him around, the two of them chattering a mile a minute. Once again, seeing the easy affection between Hunk and Lance pained Keith a little, considering how uneasy things were between himself and Shiro.

 

He wanted that to change. He sucked in a deep breath, but before he could say anything, Shiro asked, "You joined Hunk and Lance last night. Didn't think you would want to babysit on your nights off?"

 

Shiro sounded light, casual, but Keith knew better. There was concern in those dark eyes, and a hint of amusement related to things Keith would not be discussing (yet). Point being, Shiro knew  _something_ was up. And Keith, desperate for their relationship to go back to normal, couldn’t justify telling a blatant lie.

 

"Not really," Keith said haltingly. "But the kids are actually pretty cool. We ... went out, somewhere. After."

 

"This city is still dangerous, Galra or no Galra. I know you guys can handle yourselves, but I just want to make sure you're not taking any undue risks." Shiro was imploring with his gaze, silently asking Keith to say something closer to the truth.

 

"We're probably going to head back out again tonight," Keith said blandly. He didn't offer up any false reassurances, and Shiro would  _definitely_ pick up on that. "We're gonna be late, but don't worry. Like you said, we can handle anything this world can throw at us, now that the Galra are gone."

 

Shiro's eyes narrowed, but he smiled after a moment. "Sure. In that case, don't let me keep you. You gotta hit the showers before you can hit the town, after all. Particularly if you want to impress a certain—"

 

"Yeah, no, that's not happening right now, but yeah, gotta shower, talk to you later," Keith blurted out before turning tail and running like the heroic Paladin he was.

 

Shiro was definitely laughing at him now, which was both awful and ... oddly nice as well.

 

He felt a bit better, knowing that he and Shiro could still joke (and even better knowing that Shiro could read him so well, despite so long apart, and all the crap they'd been through on their separate journeys).

 

However, that small bit of comfort faded as he faced another evening at an arena, with Lance forced to fight for his life (for the lives of those kids and their mom) against people who would tear him to pieces if given the chance. And that was all it would take — just _one_ chance.

 

Pidge caught him as he was leaving his room, ready to meet Lance and Hunk by the Castle entrance to head out.

 

She shoved him back inside and slid the door shut. "Okay, so, this Ja'Delan guy? He's up to something."

 

"What've you got?" Keith asked immediately.

 

"Specifically, tonight, he has something planned, I don't know what. All I know is that, while I was trying to dig up info on him — and it's _hard as hell_ since he has no official criminal record. And Ja'Delan is  _definitely_ an alias. But I picked up some chatter.”

 

She grimaced, teeth scraping over her lower lip. “He's upped the prices on the bets for today. He's been reaching out to his wealthier clientele, promising them a  _fight like you've never seen before._ This has to do with Lance, I know it does. Ja'Delan's been raking in nearly triple his profits these last few nights, and he's gunning for more."

 

Keith wished that,  _for once,_ things would just  _go to plan._

But in his time as both a Paladin and a Blade of Marmora, he had learned that one should pretty much always expect the plan to be blown to smithereens. And the back-up plan, too. Have plans C, D, and E locked and loaded.

 

He had his knives on him, and he was going to try and smuggle in a couple of flash grenades for a quick getaway. He didn't think there was anything else they could do. The consequences of Lance breaking the contract would be brutal, but Keith ... Keith didn't think he could just  _let_ something horrible happen to Lance despite that. It's what had made him a terrible Blade. And it probably wasn't a great thing for a Paladin either, if he were honest with himself.

 

"We'll deal with whatever comes our way," Keith said finally. "But this time, let's bring comms with us, stay in contact. I know you're going to be creeping about the facility—"

 

"Spying!" Pidge protested, shoving him a little. "Stop making me sound like a freak. And yeah, I already have the comms ready."

 

"Lance's has to be muted during the fight," Keith instructed. "He doesn't need any distractions."

 

Pidge nodded and then took off her glasses, rubbing at her nose. "I can't wait for this to be over."

 

Keith put a hand on her shoulder, guiding her back out the door. "Me too."

 

Hunk was extremely happy to see that Pidge had provided them with comms, and even happier still to hear that Keith had several more weapons on him than he had the night before.

 

"Whatever you can do to keep all of us — especially Lance — alive." Hunk patted him on the back as they made their way into the city, Lance having run ahead to catch up to Ko'Lin and Ma'Adda.

 

The two kids had been waiting for them at the mouth of the alleyway that led to their apartment.

 

"Hey, can you guys hear my foot falls?" Pidge asked, cloaked alongside them. It was strange, walking with someone who was essentially invisible.

 

"It's a bit hard to tell out here," Hunk said.

 

"No, I can't hear you." Keith had figured out his hearing was slightly better than human while with the Blades. It wasn't quite Galra-level good, but he had the ability to pick out individual sounds and concentrate on those over others — Kolivan had taught him. Right now, he could sense Pidge at his side, but he picked up no sound other than her voice through the comm.

 

"Calibrations for the win," Pidge said happily. "I am so gonna rub this in Matt's face later. He kept trying to tell me that there was a problem with the math, and  _my math_ is flawless, thank you very much."

 

They reached the alley, where Lance was sitting on the ground, speaking with Ma'Adda, who was perched on his knees while Ko'Lin climbed up onto his shoulders.

 

When Ko'Lin spotted Hunk and Keith, he took a flying leap off of Lance to run towards the Yellow Paladin. Hunk caught Ko'Lin, tossing him up into the air while the boy squealed in delight.

 

Ma'Adda waved at them both and then frowned down at Lance. "But why can't either of us come tonight?"

 

"Because things are getting ... tough," Lance said reluctantly. "And Ko'Lin shouldn't have had to see that last night."

 

"But Lance," Ko'Lin whined. "Ma took us to nearly all of her matches. I saw Ka'Ursu eat someone's fingers once!"

 

"Uh huh, well,  _I_ don't want you guys seeing it." Lance breathed out, holding Ma'Adda's hands in his. "You know I'm going to win. I promise to give you an amazing play-by-play tomorrow, yeah?"

 

"Listen to Lance, Addi, Lin."

 

Keith saw Re'Yulon lean out of the window of her apartment, staring over at her kids sternly. Keith gave her a wave, and so did Hunk, as Ko'Lin shouted, "But, ma!"

 

"No, Lance is right — and you know perfectly well that I never let you watch my semi-final or final matches," she said with a raised eyebrow. "I don't appreciate you lying to the saviours of our planet."

 

Ko'Lin buried his face in Hunk's hair. The Yellow Paladin chuckled, picking the kid up and putting him down on the ground. "Sorry, little dude, but we gotta listen to your mom and Lance on this."

 

"And Lance," Re'Yulon added, while gesturing for her children to come back inside, "please remember that it is usually at this point in Final Elimination that the fights become more varied. Ja'Delan may have plans for you outside of the norm."

 

Lance gave her a thumbs up. "I remember, don't worry. You guys stay safe. We'll be back tomorrow. I'm sure you'll hear all about my triumphs before that, but pretend like you don't know, okay? It will make my story that much cooler."

 

The kids waved at Lance excitedly before they closed the door behind them. Re'Yulon gave Lance one last nod and wave as well, though her eyes were more serious. Ma'Adda had gotten that intense gaze from her mother, no doubt.

 

Keith saw Ma'Adda appear just as they were all turning to leave, and she pressed her little hands to the window, looking nervous on Lance's behalf.

 

Pidge spoke up as they walked to the arena. "I'm sorry I couldn't dig up exactly what Ja'Delan has planned for you today, Lance."

 

"No worries. I can handle whatever it is. Plus, you'll be here, doing your awesome stealth Paladin thing, and we got Hunk with his first aid kit and snacks, and Keith with his daggers, and you all have your bayards. It's fine. We'll all be fine."

 

Keith wasn't sure if he was imagining it or not, but Lance seemed ... more on edge this time. Keith studied him, the way his eyes darted about, the way he kept his hands in his pockets instead of using them to gesture as he spoke ...

 

Lance was definitely more nervous, and Keith didn't want him to be panicking on his way to this fight. Panicking would surely lead to mistakes, and Lance could not make any, not tonight.

 

"You're going to be great," Keith said, trying to be as sincere as possible. "You know that you are, so I probably don't need to be telling you this and inflating your overinflated ego. But you're starting to actually be a challenge for me to beat in sparring, so ..."

 

Lance paused as they approached the door to the fight club, his face the picture of surprise. "Um. Okay. Thanks, man. Why are you getting all ... like this on me, now?"

 

Keith shrugged, aiming for casual. "Because you deserve to hear it, and it's the truth. It also means I'm not going easy on you tomorrow morning."

 

Finally, Lance gave Keith the reaction he was looking for — he got puffed up, and his eyes narrowed, his nervousness taking a backseat to make way for his irritation. "Oh, no way, you have  _not_ been going easy on me, and we both know it."

 

"Sure, Lance, we'll see tomorrow." Keith flashed him a quick grin as they entered, the bouncer saying nothing this time. He just gave them all a nod, his eyes lingering on Lance for a moment, and then he ushered them inside in a rush. 

 

The roar of noise was overwhelming already, and they hadn't even gone down the steps yet. Hunk tilted his head, and Keith had a hand on his concealed daggers. Lance strolled on down the steps, nearly tripping over Pidge, who hissed, " _Watch it!"_

 

 _"Watch what?"_ Lance hissed back. "I can't see you! Also, wow, what's with the crowds today?"

 

"I told you," Pidge said, sounding disgruntled. "Ja'Delan has something up his sleeve! Be careful."

 

"As careful as I can be," Lance said cheerfully, though his stare had grown serious. "Hm. Right." 

 

As they all reached the bottom, Keith could see the arena filled to bursting. Not everyone had taken their seats yet, but the amount of bodies milling about made Keith think that perhaps tonight was standing room only. 

 

"Ah, hello again," said a kind, smooth voice.

 

Keith hadn't sensed this person coming, which immediately ticked him off. He whipped around to see a huge man, his skin a rich shade of turquoise, his double-irises purple and blue, and his hair tied off in a short ponytail.

 

When Lance spotted him, he grinned widely, extending a hand. "Oh, hey, To'Edrun. Glad to see you've recovered!"

 

"As have you," To'Edrun said serenely, shaking Lance's hand while his gaze slid up and down Lance's figure.

 

He was probably just confirming that Lance had (miraculously) healed from last night's bout, but even so ... Keith did not know how to feel about this. He was currently concentrating very hard on any potential threats around them. He couldn't afford to be distracted by certain  _annoying_ feelings.

 

"Well, being a Paladin comes with some benefits." Lance winked, and To'Edrun actually flushed a light purple along his cheekbones. 

 

"It seems so," To'Edrun replied after a moment, smiling over Lance's head towards Hunk and Keith. "I knew your friends would be accompanying you, as they did the night before. I took the liberty of saving them their usual seats."

 

"Really? That's awesome, bud! Thanks so much!" Lance grinned over his shoulder at them, and Hunk waved back, while Keith found himself sulking — and hating himself for it.

 

"Good luck in your match, and Lance ... be careful. Final Elimination typically becomes far more intense at this point." To'Edrun had become very serious in tone and countenance.

 

All this talk of how  _intense_ and  _outside the norm_ this fight might be, it had Keith more edgy than he could ever recall being. This wasn't a mission where he could exert some control on the outcome. He couldn't be there, with Lance, in the ring. He could only sit out here and  _watch._ His hand felt numb, due to how tightly he was gripping one of his daggers.

 

"Yeah, you're not the first person to mention that to me," Lance said, and there was the false bravado again. Different from the Lance of the night before — he was definitely more nervous. "I'm good, though, thanks."

 

"You're better than good," Hunk cut in, wrapping an arm around Lance's shoulders. "You're awesome. You're a  _Paladin._ It's already in the bag."

 

"Just remember what you've picked up in training." Keith stood on Lance's other side, doing his best to sound confident. "You're going to win, just make sure you do it the way _I_ taught you."

 

Lance rolled his eyes. "You know, I do have my own style, just saying, and it's served me pretty well. But yeah, I'll be using some of your moves. And Shiro's. It'll be quick and dirty."

 

He wagged his eyebrows at Keith, who knew he should be rolling his eyes back, but there was that traitorous blush,  _again._

 

Keith looked away, shoving lightly at Lance's chest. "Good. Go on and get yourself ready. We'll be waiting for you after the fight."

 

" _Guys, I'm following Lance to the locker room. His comm is muted now,”_ Pidge whispered.

 

Keith gave a subtle nod, staring after Lance's back.

 

"See you later, Lance," said To'Edrun with a smile. Keith scowled at the huge alien, though he let it fade as the older man bowed after Lance had left. "Now, allow me to show you to your seats."

 

"Hey, man, no offense, but um, you really did a number of Lance that first night," Hunk said while they began walking.

 

Keith's scowl returned — so this guy was from the first round? When Keith had seen Lance two nights ago, looking like tenderized meat? Not that it compared to the aftermath of yesterday, but all the same — Keith was set in  _not liking_ this jerk.

 

"I was honoured to fight him," To'Edrun said, gesturing at them to walk ahead of him. Keith stubbornly remained behind, crossing his arms as To'Edrun merely smiled at him and let him have his way. "Lance is incredibly skilled, though he has a streak of kindness that ... is not necessarily a good thing in this setting."

 

"We know," Hunk said sadly. "Keith's been training him. He's one of our best close combat fighters."

 

To'Edrun gave another little bow to Keith before they all sat down. "Ah, well, then I hope your lessons have been well-received."

 

Keith opened his mouth to reply, though what he was going to say, he had no idea — he didn't exactly trust his mouth to listen to his brain right now.

 

Luckily, any potential awkwardness was saved by To'Edrun asking, "Would you like me to retrieve some snacks? As a fighter, I receive them with a generous discount."

 

"Sure!" Hunk grinned. "I've been curious about those shish-kebab things. Uh, the snacks on the sticks?"

 

To'Edrun nodded and stood up once more, disappearing into the multitude.

 

Hunk shot Keith a sly little look from beneath half-lidded eyes. "You know, I can't read you right now. I can't tell if you're pissed off at this guy for beating up on Lance, or if you're jealous of him. Or something in-between, which is kinda weird, but also very you, I feel."

 

" _Sounds like the third option to me!"_ Pidge chirped from wherever she was at the moment. 

 

Keith sighed, scrubbing at his face. "Okay. If I asked you guys not to say anything to Lance, what would it take to keep your mouths shut?"

 

"Oh holy crow, I was right?" Hunk gaped at him. "That was a total shot in the dark!" He now looked at Keith pityingly. "Oh ... Keith, I don't know if Lance ... I mean, he's only ever flirted with girls in all the years I've known him. I don't think he's ever once mentioned a guy."

 

"I figured. And this isn't important," Keith said, his eyes trained on the currently empty cage. "Right now, we need to pay attention to whatever it is Ja'Delan might be up to. Lance might need us to run interference so he can make it out of here."

 

"That would be a sound strategy, except for the fact that Lance is going to be  _in a literal cage._ "

 

Hunk squeaked, and Keith whipped around in his seat, staring up in shock. "Shiro?!"

 

******

 

"Time for us to go," Matt said, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the doorframe.

 

He was dressed casually, similar to Shiro, with comfortable, dark clothes, and likely a few weapons hidden on his person (also like Shiro, who didn't feel comfortable without a blade at his back and one in his right boot).

 

Matt smiled, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "The kiddos have disappeared."

 

"I don't think this is a good idea," Shiro said, tension present in all his muscles. "I trust them. If we do this, it's breaking that trust."

 

"No, I put that tracking device in Katie's gear because she freaking lied to my face about whatever she's up to tonight," Matt countered, grabbing Shiro's wrist and dragging him out of his room. "And if she's lying to me, then the others are lying to you by omission.  _Something_ is going on."

 

Shiro did not disagree with this assessment, but his relationship with the others felt so tenuous; he didn't feel right following them without their knowledge.

 

He wasn't their keeper, not in any official capacity — they were rotating roles now. While Shiro was most often in the Black Lion, he would take Keith or Lance's advice readily, especially since there were times where ... he couldn't quite decipher what was real and what wasn't. On the very bad days, he let Keith take Black, Lance would hop into Red, and Allura would take over Blue again.

 

When they weren't on missions, he wasn’t comfortable in the same room as them.

 

Not when Pidge jumped, hand going to her bayard, that time he had called her to lunch. When Hunk hesitated before slapping him congenially on the back or offering him plates of his latest delicacy. Allura and Coran were both incredibly kind and understanding, as always, but he could feel that Allura had become more guarded. (He had noticed that during these diplomatic talks on Ga'Ulin, she seemed to be relaxing around him, which gave him hope.)

 

Then Keith and Lance ... Keith might be warming up to him again. He never shied away from contact, and he didn't have any trouble telling Shiro if he was making a bad call. But their day-to-day interactions were so  _awkward_ at times. 

 

Lance was an entirely separate issue. What Shiro's clone had done to him — playing on his fears and insecurities, the beating Lance took before Keith got to him and they thwarted the attack together ...

 

Shiro had watched some of it on the Castle security feeds. He'd thrown up afterwards.

 

Lance had tried so hard to help the clone, especially when he knew for certain that Hagger was controlling him, robbing the clone of his own free will in order to destroy the team from the inside. He didn't deserve what had happened. None of them did. All the pain had been visited upon them by someone with  _Shiro's face._ He'd been living with them for  _months._ Shiro had been too late to help them. 

 

"Hey." Matt had stopped pulling Shiro along, and now he was standing right in front of him, looking up at Shiro with serious amber eyes. "Hey, come back. I can tell that wherever your mind is going, it's not a good place."

 

"I'm fine," Shiro said, which had Matt rolling his eyes in a highly dramatic fashion.

 

"I thought we were retiring that word. It never means what it's supposed to mean when  _you_  are the one saying it." Matt arched an eyebrow Shiro's way. "How bad?"

 

Then there was Matt.

 

Matt, who had been horrified by the discovery of the clone, angry at himself, protective of his sister, but who had then bounced right back in short order.

 

Shiro couldn't even begin to fathom what kind of thoughts Matt was having at any given moment. This rebel soldier bore  _some_ resemblance to the enthusiastic, nerdy, happily joking and flirtatious Matt Holt, but then he'd tilt his head a certain way, narrow his eyes, and with the lack of glasses and those new scars ... Shiro would have no idea  _who_ he was looking at.

 

"Not bad," Shiro said at last. "Just ... forget it. Let's go. If this turns out to be nothing—"

 

"You can kick my ass on the training deck," Matt chirped, twirling back around to head out for a speeder.

 

"Lance and I had a short talk during his training with Keith today," Shiro offered as they headed into the city. "It was good." It wasn't about anything substantial, just fighting tips, but Lance had listened attentively, hadn't flinched once as Shiro showcased the moves. 

 

"None of them are afraid of you." Matt reclined in the passenger seat, his hands tossed over his head, grasping the back of his headrest. "Least of all Lance and Keith."

 

Shiro didn't want to be having this conversation again, so he changed the topic to something he'd learned just that morning.

 

"I think that Keith might have a crush on Lance." Shiro grinned as Matt burst out laughing.

 

"Well, that's something you can use to start talking to Keith again — please mock the hell out of him for that one. Katie told me all about their fights and so-called rivalry. Right, I'm totally calling belligerent sexual tension."

 

"Except that I have no idea if Lance reciprocates." Which would be awful for Keith, and Shiro just wanted his surrogate brother happy, for  _once._

 

Keith's life had been unnecessarily hard for many years, and he could see Lance and Keith working out well. But if Lance had no interest in anything beyond friendship, that might make their current relationship strained. Which could affect the team, since Lance and Keith were so good when it came to working together out in the field.

 

"I think Lance possibly needs to know that Keith is even an option, and then he'll know if he reciprocates?" Matt gave Shiro a little knowing smile. "Speaking from experience."

 

"Our circumstances are a little different," Shiro chided him. "And we're not going there, yet."

 

"But we are on our way  _to_  going there," Matt said, his smile widening. "We're locked in a holding pattern until we both know which course to take, but we're already in the air, Takashi."

 

"I almost wish you'd go back to calling me  _sir._ " Shiro immediately back-tracked, the horror of his own words hitting him. "No,  _wait, don't—_ "

 

"I'm going to spare you the obvious joke because we're here." Matt's expression slipped into that of the serious soldier, his eyes falling away from Shiro's so he could begin examining their location. "They're inside that building."

 

Shiro followed Matt's pointed finger to a small, squat building, sandwiched between a pawn shop and a large market of some sort. A massive alien stood in front of the only visible entrance; he seemed to be letting people in after brief conversations and a few exchanges of coins. 

 

"How are we getting inside?" Matt asked, tugging his cloak around himself. "Pidge took all her stealth gear with her."

 

"The diplomats gave Allura and I spending money," Shiro said, indicating a bag of coins he had tied to his belt. "Should be enough to get us in."

 

"Oh, big spender. I'll have you know money doesn't impress me." Matt hopped out of the speeder as soon as Shiro had tucked it into an alleyway and flipped the engine off. "I'm a cheap date, so you'll need other means to win me over."

 

"Believe me, I'm very aware. I saw how happy you were eating just dirt cheap ramen for a month." Shiro winced at that particular memory from their Garrison days — Matt had grown up with delicious home-cooked meals, and yet he could cheerfully live off of Mr. Noodle or nuclear yellow Kraft Dinner for the rest of his life. It was a miracle he hadn't developed scurvy while at school.

 

"Don't remind me. It makes me miss home. Ramen. Mac 'n' cheese. Oh. Earth." He sighed, bumping his shoulder into Shiro as they walked up to the bouncer.

 

"You two are new," the guy said once they stood before him. He stared at them, his green and grey eyes narrowed. "You two are ... Paladins?"

 

"One of us is," Matt said, pointing at Shiro. "What, do defenders of the universe get a discount?"

 

The bouncer snorted. "You wish. But your friend only had two guests with him today. So one of you gets in free, the other pays."

 

This was a confusing statement, but Shiro feigned nonchalance, offering up what he hoped was a sufficient amount of coins.

 

The bouncer took them without question, opening the door and all but shoving them inside. "Get going, match starts in a few doboshes."

 

The door slammed shut behind them.

 

All they could see was a rickety set of stairs, but the noise rising up from the bottom of those steps was nigh on overwhelming.

 

Shiro could feel Matt's shrug, and then they both set off, Matt checking his wrist computer. "Pidge is somewhere in the north corner of this building. Not sure if we should follow her if she's in stealth mode, I don't want to give away her ..."

 

He trailed off, stunned, and Shiro completely understood why. This place was an arena. A  _giant_ arena, filled to the brim with jostling, shouting, jeering crowds, most of them in their seats, though a few were milling about, buying snacks or congregated by counters Shiro assumed were for placing bets. 

 

At the centre, on the lowest floor of the arena, stood a cage.

 

Shiro knew what this was. What had him baffled was  _why_ the others were here, and apparently coming here nightly. None of them had ever mentioned enjoying this kind of entertainment (Keith, especially, had reasons to hate this sort of thing), and considering that most of their time was taken up with  _defending the universe,_ why on earth would ...

 

"Oh, more Paladins!"

 

Matt and Shiro turned in unison to face a turquoise Ga'Ulin, his smile kind and his hands filled with ... shish-kebabs?

 

He nodded at them both, giving them a slight bow. "My name is To'Edrun, and I can take you to your friends, if you like? We can all sit together."

 

"Of course," Matt said instantly. "That would be great, thanks!"

 

To'Edrun led the way as Shiro and Matt followed, exchanging glances.

 

Matt raised his eyebrows, gesturing to where Pidge was — they weren't heading in that direction. Which meant that Lance, Keith, and Hunk were separated from her. Were they running some kind of mission? Where was this family Lance had been talking about? Had that been a lie? It hadn't felt like one — Lance loved kids, and his enthusiasm had shone through whenever he spoke about them. He wasn't  _that_ good of a liar, was he?

 

"It's good of you to come support Lance as well!" To'Edrun said, turning to shoot them a quick smile over his shoulder. "He's been a solid competitor, and definitely a crowd favourite, but as I told your fellow Paladins, from tonight onward, the fights are far more brutal. Ja'Delan likes to surprise his audience and his combatants. Hopefully, Lance ... Well, as long as he doesn't make the same mistakes he did last night, he should do well."

 

Matt and Shiro stared at each other. Lance. In that cage.  _Fighting._ Had this been happening for, what, two nights, three now? What the  _actual hell were they doing?_ How could Hunk let Lance do this? Why hadn’t Keith _said anything?_ Pidge usually had way more sense than  _this,_ what could she be thinking? What could  _possibly_ have led them to this place?

 

It sounded like Lance had been winning, but not cleanly — not without injury ... He seemed fine in the morning, so they must have been sneaking him into the cryo-pods overnight.

 

The level of deception was setting off Shiro's temper in a very big way. He had to inhale sharply and exhale slowly several times before he could unclench his fists. Matt snuck a hand beneath Shiro's coat, pressing firmly against the small of his back. Shiro relaxed slightly more.

 

He spotted Hunk and Keith, though they hadn't see him yet, too caught up in their conversation.

 

Keith was staring intently down towards the cage, telling Hunk, "Right now, we need to pay attention to whatever it is Ja'Delan might be up to. Lance might need us to run interference so he can make it out of here."

 

Shiro crossed his arms, glaring at them both as he came to stand right next to Hunk. "That would be a sound strategy, except for the fact that Lance is going to be  _in a literal cage._ "

 

It was almost funny, the way they both jumped in their seats, heads jerking up, eyes widening.

 

Keith coughed out, " _Shiro?!"_

 

"Hi guys!" Matt waved with his free hand. "What's cookin'? No, wait, I know!  _Lance in that cage._ "

 

"I can explain!" Hunk blurted out. "It's not ... We had to, we didn't have a choice!"

 

Shiro took a seat, Matt sitting down as well, but leaning over Shiro in order to hear Hunk and Keith. Shiro gestured to the cage. "All right, what's going on?"

 

"Lance is helping out a mom who couldn't fight — he took her place, and unless he completes her contract, this guy will have both the mom and her kids killed. Maybe even more people. He's a bad dude, Pidge can confirm! We would've just taken them to the Castle, but they didn't want to go. And we can't track down  _everyone_  who works for Ja'Delan, so there's no guarantee we take him out before one of his people goes through with the murders," Hunk blabbered.

 

"Right." Shiro processed this all as fast as he could, and then asked, "I'm assuming Lance has to fight a certain number of times to finish out this contract?"

 

"More like enter this tournament and compete until he wins, or gets eliminated, whichever." Hunk waved his hands, which Shiro noticed were trembling somewhat.

 

"Uh, not to state the obvious, but why didn't Lance just, y'know, lose and call it a night?" Matt pointed out. "He puts in a good show, but, hey, he didn't make the cut. Contract complete, everyone ... Oh. Okay. I can tell by your faces I'm missing something?"

 

"Lance already threw a fight," Keith said shortly. "The boss found out. It wasn't good. It's a big part of why Lance is stuck. He threw the fight on purpose, and made a decent amount of money for those kids by betting against himself. If he throws another fight … it would be as good as breaking the contract."

 

Shiro scrubbed at his eyes with both hands, dragging his fingers down his face. "Well, that's great."

 

"Good news is that Lance has been kicking all kinds of ass," Hunk said proudly, even as his eyes shifted about anxiously — everyone was in their seats now. "And this is the third fight. Just two more to go after this."

 

"Right." Shiro breathed out measuredly. "I can't do anything about this right now. Just know you're all in deep trouble. I am going to stand back and let Allura rake you over the coals. I might even help."

 

"Where's my sister?" Matt asked, frowning.

 

Hunk and Keith both made hand gestures — the kind that they used out in the field.  _Can't talk. Might compromise mission._

 

Matt nodded, his frown deepening, but before either he or Shiro could ask more questions, the announcer came blaring over the speakers.

 

" _We've had seven matches today — seven glorious battles! But now comes the time for the bout you've all been waiting for!"_

 

The crowd began to cheer, chanting, " _Pa-La-Din Lance! Pa-La-Din Lance!"_

 

"Wow." Matt leaned in to speak directly into Shiro's ear. "To'Edrun wasn't kidding. Lance is a superstar."

 

"That's the least surprising part of his whole thing," Shiro replied loudly into Matt's ear.

 

" _We bring you our contender — the former soldier, elite of the elite! Give her a welcome worthy of our dedicated troops — Si'Liru!"_

 

An answering roar met the announcer's cry, and Shiro watched as Lance's opponent entered from the south side of the arena.

 

She stood tall, as most Ga'Ulins did, with pronounced muscles, her skin a dark blue, heavily scarred, and her green hair pulled back in a severe bun. She wore simple black pants and a purple sleeveless shirt — the colours of the Ga'Ulin ground forces.

 

When Si’Liru reached the bottom of the slightly elevated cage, she jumped up, snagging the open door and pulling herself inside. A few people rushed over to close the door behind her, using a huge padlock.

 

Shiro did not appreciate the added obstacle — it would make getting to Lance even more difficult, since he would assume the metal of that cage could withstand most weapons.

 

" _And now, the brawler who needs no introduction — back for more, after a stunning victory that nearly cost him his leg"_ — Shiro almost gave himself whiplash from how quickly he turned to stare at Hunk and Keith, neither of them willing to look back at him —  _"we give you our world's saviour, Paladin Lance!"_

 

The chanting resumed, and Lance appeared from the north side, his arms in the air. He was blowing kisses to people in the crowd, winking almost non-stop, laughing joyously when he reached the cage, and swinging on the open door to blow one last kiss to the masses. He jumped inside, but the door didn't shut behind him — instead, one of the stagehands rushed in, holding up a blue bag.

 

The noise of the crowd grew tenfold.

 

_"That's right, folks — we have our first weapons match of Final Elimination!"_

 

To'Edrun leaned over Matt, nearly shouting to be heard. "Ja'Delan usually saves this for the fourth round! But Lance will be fine! No blasters or sharp blades allowed!"

 

Hunk had gone pale, and Keith lurched forward in his seat, one hand pulling a booted foot onto his knee — a boot that likely had a dagger in it, just like Shiro's. His own hand inched towards the blade at his back, but he found Matt's hand there already, gripping the hilt tightly. Their fingers met, tangling together for a moment.

 

" _Si'Liru draws first as the challenger to our currently undefeated Paladin!"_

 

The huge woman reached into the bag, pulling out a stone with symbols painted on it — Shiro glanced up to a screen, which displayed a clear image of two crossed batons.

 

Applause and shouting ensued as another one of the stagehands rushed into the cage through Lance's open door, handing Si'Liru two batons, about half a metre long. She swung them experimentally, twirling one in each hand.

 

" _Paladin Lance draws his weapons!"_

 

Lance had been smiling this entire time, looking unphased. He reached into the bag, making a show of digging around, which got a few laughs from the multitude. He yanked out a stone, holding it high above his head without looking at it. Some of the crowd rose up, cheering wildly.

 

" _A single broadsword — this should be interesting, considering that the Paladin is considerably smaller than our warriors!"_

 

The wooden sword looked like a basic training weapon — except that it was huge. Lance took it from the young alien who offered it to him, and he had to hold it with two hands to keep it aloft.

 

Shiro sucked in a harsh breath. This would not be easy. He'd seen Lance take to his new bayard form pretty well; with Keith's help, he was becoming quite the swordsman. But that blade was specifically meant for him. This one was not.

 

" _Weapons have been decided! Take your seats and be ready for a match to end all matches!"_

 

The stagehands fled, and the last one out was the young alien who had handed Lance his sword. She slammed the door shut behind her, the padlock secured.

 

As soon as the  _click_ echoed throughout the arena, Si'Liru attacked.

 

Shiro let go of Matt's hand so he could cross his arms, keeping himself under control as Lance ducked and weaved around lightning fast blows, barely keeping his sword up.

 

Five, six,  _seven_ close calls where Si'Liru nearly caught Lance in the head or in his knees. He managed to spin out of the way, using his too-big sword to block a few of those hits. One particularly hard slam had Lance nearly losing his grip on the weapon, and Si'Liru took advantage of his unstable footing, dropping down to use both batons to sweep his feet out from under him.

 

Lance hit the mat hard, visibly gasping for breath. He brought his sword up just in time to avoid getting smashed in the chest by those batons, the wooden weapons wielded by a soldier who seemed coldly indifferent to the pain she was inflicting.

 

Lance was drenched in sweat, chest heaving for breath, and Shiro knew that unless Lance could land a solid blow, eventually his stamina would run out, and this soldier would shatter bones.

 

Keith jumped to his feet when Si'Liru finally got Lance hard enough to make him cry out — she snuck a sharp jab past Lance's defences, hitting him in the side.

 

Hunk yanked Keith back down, and Shiro reached over, grabbing at Keith's shoulder, squeezing once, never taking his eyes off of Lance. Lance, who had fallen back against the cage, as Si'Liru rained blows down on him, never ceasing. He had nowhere to back up to now.

 

But something lit up his face, a grin spreading as Si'Liru raised the batons to knock him out for good — Lance slid to one side a split second before they made contact. Instead, the batons struck his sword, which Lance had gripped firmly in both his hands, pressing up against the cage ...

 

The  _crack_ was painfully loud. The sound of a home-run bat smashing. And that's exactly what the wooden sword did — the impact of both batons, swung at such speed and with such strength,  _shattered_ the sword ... 

 

Leaving Lance with a wooden blade half its original size, and now jagged on the end.

 

Si'Liru leapt away as Lance began swinging with ease, his training showing in every sharp move, every spin and dodge. The way he flowed into each leap was distinctly Keith's influence, but the flexibility, the occasionally sporadic jerk as Lance changed his mind halfway through a move — that was  _all_  Lance.

 

Shiro found himself yelling Lance's name as he stabbed at Si'Liru, catching her shoulder, drawing blood. She growled at him, but Lance just pushed on, until she was the one backed up against the cage.

 

No one was stopping Lance from using this now potentially lethal weapon. Shiro didn't expect it, considering this was a (literal) underground fight club, but the lack of restraint had his stomach rolling, made his Galra arm tingle, and it felt like he couldn't breathe, like this arena more closely resembled a massive stadium, like the audience had purple skin and fur and ...

 

Matt was pressed completely against his side, a calloused hand gripping that metal arm Shiro detested — Matt was unafraid, even as the arm glowed a faint purple. The rebel soldier gripped it and didn't let go, trusting Shiro not to exert too much strength in return. Shiro felt himself exhale, and then inhale, and his arm stopped glowing.

 

Si'Liru managed two sharp, brutal hits — one to Lance's right side again, the other to Lance's upper arm. But Lance just shouted out his pain and kept on moving, ending the fight with a violent lunge, spearing the wooden sword right through Si'Liru's shoulder. 

 

She collapsed, her right arm now useless. She tried to hit him, but Lance knocked the baton out of her left hand with one swift kick, and then knocked her unconscious with another.

 

" _Yes!"_ Shiro yelled, Matt surging up alongside him to shove his fist high in the air, hollering at the same time as Hunk did. Keith shouted triumphantly, though he managed to stay seated, his eyes bright and his smile wide.

 

Screaming nearly deafened Shiro as the whole arena seemed to take a breath to shout as loudly as possible, as one voice,  _"Pa-La-Din Lance!"_

 

Lance raised one fist in triumph, his arm shaking slightly. He'd carried the weight of that giant sword for too long, not to mention the sheer physicality involved in that fight. Shiro was  _damn proud_ of him, reckless decisions or not.

 

Lance could be boastful, arrogant, even self-centred at times, but he always fought with his whole heart, and he could never turn his back on people in need — which was why he was here now, beaten black and blue, but grinning ear to ear. Shiro had never fully understood Lance's need for parades and accolades, but he was happy that Lance got to hear thousands of people screaming his name.

 

"Holy crap, oh my god," Hunk said faintly. "That was better than last night, but damn, I still can't deal ..."

 

"Anything is better than Lance getting his leg practically ripped off," Keith said, looking both relieved and satisfied. "Tomorrow morning, we're doing broadsword training. Anything two-handed and heavy."

 

The cage had been opened on Si'Liru's side, people who appeared to be medics rushing in. They crowded around her, and a couple headed over to Lance.

 

Hunk held up a hand. "Uh, what’s going on? Normally they take them out."

 

"Maybe they just wanna make sure that they can actually walk?" Matt wiped at his face. "Man, that was tense. Lance  _nearly lost a leg last night?_ Geez, I don't think my heart could've taken that."

 

"No," Keith said, his smile fading into a scowl. "No, this isn't right."

 

Lance wasn't being permitted to leave.

 

They dragged Si'Liru out, loaded her onto a stretcher, but the medics were tending to Lance right then and there — Shiro couldn't imagine what they could do without more intensive care. Lance could be bleeding internally for all they knew, especially after that hit to his side. Lance was arguing with the medics, it looked like, and several stagehands entered, keeping him at bay as the medics finished whatever they'd been doing.

 

The crowd started rumbling, sounding both disgruntled and intrigued.

 

" _Folks, don't you leave yet! We have a first for our Final Elimination competition — the fourth round begins tonight! Our last match of the evening will be the start of our semi-finals! Another bout with the contender we're all rooting for — Paladin Lance!"_

 

"What?  _What?!"_ Hunk gaped at the cage, at Lance, who seemed to know where they were seated, his blue eyes visible even without the aid of a screen, seeming to take up most of his face as he stared out towards them. 

 

"They can't do this!" Keith snarled. "He can't fight  _again_ after that!"

 

"This isn't normal," To'Edrun said, and Shiro had forgotten about the man seated on Matt's other side. He looked grim, his eyes focused on the cage. "But based on what you've said, I believe Ja'Delan is enacting his vengeance against Lance."

 

The people in the arena seemed torn between excitement and offense on Lance's behalf.

 

But Lance ... Lance's horror had shifted into a grim expression of his own — darkly determined. He crossed his arms and waited, chin jutting out. Already, bruises were forming on one side of his face, and his arms were littered with darkening spots as well. But Lance just stood there, rocking on his bare feet, his jaw set.

 

"That's all you," Keith said, his own face pale, but his mouth mirroring Lance's. His eyes darted over to Shiro. "That's your angry pose."

 

"Well, we're all kinda living in each other's space." Hunk seemed to latch onto this topic, desperate for a distraction. "I'm starting to calibrate the same way Pidge does, and she's organizing her notes with my colour-coded system."

 

"Oh, was it you that got her doing that?" Matt grinned. "Thanks, man — makes it way easier to poach her designs."

 

"Pidge would let you if you asked," Hunk told him, laughing a little (high-pitched and anxious). "She kinda adores you. But it ticks her off when you mess with her stuff."

 

"Yeah, my sis is so adorable when she's angry," Matt said with a laugh of his own (definitely on edge). "I can't help it. It's a big brother thing."

 

"You think she's adorable because she won't go nuclear on you," Hunk countered. "Pidge is the most terrifying member of Voltron. Ask Shiro."

 

"Yes, she is," Shiro agreed without hesitation. "And we could really use her help right now."

 

Hunk and Keith both jumped then, and Hunk reflexively raised a hand to his ear.

 

Matt latched onto that, his eyes tracking the movement. Without speaking, he typed something onto his wrist computer, and Hunk nodded, reaching for his bag and taking out his tablet. Shiro leaned over Matt to read what Hunk was typing out:  _Green is tracking boss. She's got a potential way out. But she says risk is high._

 

Shiro didn't think they could get Lance out before the start of the next match — not with all eyes on him, alone in that cage. Not without risking the lives of that family Lance was fighting for. Shiro felt helpless, and it wasn't a feeling he could simply breathe out this time.

 

" _If you haven't placed your bets, the time is now — especially since some of you know exactly who is going to be entering that cage!"_

 

Everyone in the arena seemed to find their way back to their seats within the next few seconds. The bets had been placed, and based on the chatter Shiro was overhearing, it seemed most were still betting on Lance. That loosened the knot of anxiety in his chest, but only minutely.

 

" _I'd like to bring out the challenger for our first semi round match — the winner of this fight will be going on to the Final Elimination!"_

 

Applause and shouting, a few chants of Lance's name. But another name was being screamed here and there, and it was the name that spilled out of the over-excited announcer's microphone.

 

" _Winner of three Final Eliminations, and known for his finishing move — one that ends the careers of nearly all who meet it — I give you the deadliest fighter in our standings, Zu'Sorun!"_

 

"Deadliest." Hunk had both his hands in his shirt, all but tearing at the material. " _Deadliest._ "

 

"It's not often that people die in these matches," To'Edrun rushed to say over the crowd noise. "But ... when they have died, it's usually been at his hands."

 

Zu'Sorun wasn't tall compared to other Ga'Ulin citizens, but he was still a full head taller than Lance. Whatever he lacked in height, he made up in muscle mass. He hulked into the arena, not once lifting his eyes to the people yelling his name, or to those reaching out for him between the rails and the armed guards lining his path.

 

His gaze was focused entirely on Lance, who had spun around to watch him walk in. 

 

Shiro had words to offer Keith, who looked on the verge of taking a flying leap towards the cage. He wanted to reach over to Hunk, providing reassurance. He wanted to ask To'Edrun more about this Zu'Sorun person.

 

But before he could do anything, say anything, Zu'Sorun had taken off at a run. The cage door was open, and he dove in, rolling to his feet and striking Lance down with one brick-sized fist before  _anyone_ could say or do  _anything._

 

******

 

The world went dark, but only for a split second.

 

Before his sight returned, Lance had rolled instinctively back, nearly throwing up the entire contents of his stomach as he did. He regretted his giant breakfast. He regretted his delicious lunch of Hunk's special Altean Pasta Delight. He regretted many things, but he couldn't waste time counting — not when this jackass was out for his blood.

 

Every muscle, especially the ones in his arms, demanded that Lance just  _lie the hell down._

 

But Lance couldn't stop moving, flipping over in a too flashy move to escape another heavy blow to his head. He wondered if he had enough strength left to climb the cage, taking a dive onto this giant jerk to pin him down. He was halfway up before he'd even decided to do it, but this guy, this Zu'Sorun, had Lance around the waist, yanking so swiftly that Lance felt his head snap back. Then he was brought down onto the floor.

 

Zu'Sorun straddled him, his massive bulk on Lance's stomach, restricting his diaphragm, and those massive fists were raining down.

 

His forearms bore the brunt of the assault, but Lance knew that he was risking broken bones if he kept that up. He had to allow a shot to his face, and even as the blood poured from his nose, he managed to grab one wrist and  _bend._

 

The snap was loud, Zu'Sorun's howls even louder, but it was the opening Lance needed to roll out from beneath him and leap to his feet.

 

He kneed Zu’Sorun in the face, breaking his nose, a petty act of vengeance wrapped in an attempt to knock his opponent out. 

 

Zu’Sorun was wavering on his feet, and Lance didn't let him regain his footing. No, Lance had done that once already, and nearly lost his leg.

 

A glancing blow sent Lance spinning into the cage, his temple catching the metal at just the right angle to slice into his skin, adding more blood into the mix. This latest injury was dangerous only because it obscured his vision. 

 

Zu’Sorun couldn't stay balanced, but he seemed to know how to compensate for it — the next punch hit Lance so hard in the head that darkness surged up in his vision once more.

 

Suddenly, Lance wasn't there.

 

He wasn't there, in a cage, with Zu’Sorun, the Ga'Ulin cage fighter. Lance was inside his own brain, screaming for survival, for the need to make it through this night because he hadn't survived the Galra Empire, Lotor, a  _freaking clone of Shiro, his hero,_ just to die here, in this random fight club on a random world, a billion light years from his home.

 

He forgot about Ma'Adda and Ko'Lin. He forgot about Keith and Hunk out there in the audience, no doubt losing their minds with worry. He even forgot about being a Paladin for a second.

 

He was just Lance, and Lance knew that he was  _a damn good fighter._ He knew that he could beat this bastard _, once and for all._

 

By the time Lance resurfaced from his thoughts, he had slid down, taking Zu’Sorun out by his ankles, and in the same breath, he grabbed a leg before Zu’Sorun hit the ground, twisting it, dislocating it from his hip.

 

The scream went through one ear and out the other.

 

Lance couldn't risk this guy getting up. Zu’Sorun had won this tournament _three times_ before by _killing people_ , and no way was Lance going to be his casualty on the way to a fourth victory. He snatched up the other leg and jerked it out of its socket, leaving Zu’Sorun limp and wheezing on the mat. 

 

Lance crawled away, too tired to get up, and then lashed out with his foot, once, hitting Zu’Sorun hard enough in the skull to silence the whimpering.

 

He was back against the cage, his arms having gone numb, his muscles wracked in agony where he could feel them.

 

He stared at the outcome of this match, at the alien man, bruised, bleeding, and broken before him.

 

Lance was seized with a different sort of pain.  _Where the hell had all that come from? Had he really done that? Had he just destroyed this guy's two legs without hesitation? When had he learned this?_ Lance could not remember Keith or Shiro ever teaching him that move. Did Lance just ... have some kind of innate fight club talent? Was that a thing he  _wanted_ to have?

 

The announcer was shouting something, the crowd nearly drowning him out — the cacophony merged into one long droning roar in Lance's ringing ears. He had to keep blinking the blood from his eyes, his arms incapable of lifting to wipe it away. 

 

At some point, the medics rushed in, and Lance was on a stretcher. He blanked out for an unknowable period, and when he blinked his way back into awareness again, it was to the sounds of his friends, his family, yelling his name, and ...  _was that Shiro?_

 

"You can't keep him here," Shiro said, loud enough to be frightening.

 

Lance's head rolled. He realized that he was on a bed — or a cot, really — and his forehead was bandaged. Something wet and sticky rested against his ribs, but it was oddly soothing and warm.

 

Shiro stood in front of Lance, and Hunk was sitting on the edge of the cot, holding one of Lance's hands. Keith was standing just behind Shiro, and Lance could see the knife in his hand, glinting in the dim light of the room. Matt stood on Shiro's other side. Pidge was nowhere to be seen.

 

"We can," came Ja'Delan's voice. "Because you don't want innocent blood on your hands. I'm a man of my word, Paladin. All I ask is that your fellow Paladin uphold his. One last match."

 

"Then let us take him home," Hunk said angrily. "He needs rest and—"

 

"To be healed in whatever it is that you have on that advanced ship? He comes to each match fresh and unbruised, and while we have certain means of healing our fighters, it's certainly nothing compared to Altean technology, clearly." Ja'Delan sounded an odd combination of amused and annoyed. "While it was entertaining to see him rile up the crowds, and while I've certainly made money selling prints of his victory poses—"

 

"Hey, I object," Lance said, sitting up.

 

Hunk dropped his hand, reaching over to hug him, hollering, “ _Lance!”_ directly into Lance's ear.  _Ow._

 

"Yeah, I live, and I'm kinda offended you're so relieved, buddy." Lance coughed, unable to hold back a swear as his ribs protested. Hunk had him in a very gentle embrace, for which Lance was grateful, because his arms were definitely not going to hold him up for any length of time. "Also, offended that I wasn't cut in on the profits? My beautiful face must've made you a  _ton_ of extra coinage."

 

Ja'Delan stood just before Shiro and Matt, his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised. "You are not wrong. But what would make a ton more coinage, as you say, is if you would come to our next fight ready to defeat our champion. But you can't be pristinely healed, Paladin. None of my fights are ever  _fixed._ Everyone is in that cage, no augments, no chemical enhancements, nothing but what nature gave them and whatever training taught them. Your healing is pushing the limits of that."

 

That actually made sense. "Okay. Fair. I'll stay."

 

"What?" Keith turned a complete one-eighty, his eyes wide, his face very, very pale, which had Lance fairly concerned. "You  _can't stay here._ "

 

"Lance,  _no,_ this is too far," Shiro said, and he marched over, putting a hand on Lance's shoulder. "Listen, I understand why you did this. I think it's incredible of you — I think you were incredible in that cage. But I can't condone you risking your life like this anymore. Not without help. We won't let this happen."

 

"I think that it's my choice." Lance carefully disentangled himself from Hunk. "I can finish this. And if you don't think that I can—"

 

"That's  _not_ what this is about," Shiro began, but Lance cut him off with a shake of his head. 

 

"Please? I really messed up with the clone, I know—"

 

"I, what?" Shiro looked flabbergasted.

 

Lance suddenly realized that he spoke unfiltered truth, words that he hadn’t even known he’d been internalizing, until they were out in the open. He shivered, the memories clouding his already confused mind, and it took Hunk putting a hand on his thigh to bring him back around.

 

"Lance—" That was Keith, both bewildered and worried. "How—"

 

"I wanted to help him, but it nearly got us all killed," Lance said quietly. "I'm not saying I think I'm the worst person ever, okay? I'm just saying ... that this feels like a good thing to do, um, being forced to do it aside. And I ... I need a win. Because winning is awesome, but winning to  _help someone ..._ Maybe I'll feel better about all the stuff with the clone after. It is my fault, at least a little. I mean, it's why you and me," Lance said, staring up at Shiro, "are kinda weird now, right?"

 

"No, we're weird because  _a clone of me nearly strangled you to death,_ " Shiro said in shock. "What ... I thought you were  _scared of me._ I thought you resented me for not getting out of that lab sooner ..."

 

"Neither of you make sense," Keith interrupted, waving his hands out in the air between them. "You're both idiots. I wasn't even  _here for most of it,_ and I know you're both being dumb. I wasn't here, and I should have been—"

 

" _Okay!"_ Matt clapped his hands together supremely loudly, loud enough to have everyone wincing or cringing back. "Enough with the pity party, please and thank you. Lance, we're going to leave you with Hunk's bag of goodies, okay? There's some first aid in there, a change of clothes, and he basically packed enough food for an army, so, uh, don't be opposed to sharing, please." 

 

_Pidge. Pidge was somewhere nearby._

 

Lance nodded, feeling horribly flushed and embarrassed — how hard had he hit his head to just go  _blabbing his stupid insecurities all over everyone? Especially Shiro_. Well, it did help that both Shiro and Keith seemed equally mortified.

 

He tried smiling a little, the expression becoming more genuine as Matt smiled and winked back. "Cool. Hunk, Keith, Shiro — we'll be back, bright and early, first thing in the morning. You wouldn't be opposed to Lance getting a little training in, I assume?"

 

Matt directed this question back at Ja'Delan, who seemed somewhat baffled by their previous ravings. He covered it up with a cough and a nod.

 

"Certainly. We have excellent facilities connected to this building. The better the fighters, the better the fights. You're all welcome. Lance simply cannot leave until after the final."

 

"Yeah, final Final Elimination," Matt said, completely straight-faced. "Great. Everyone, move out!"

 

Lance let Hunk hug him once more, his best friend whispering, "Eat the pancakes before they get soggy. And don't do anything risky before we get back. Love you, man." Lance felt a kiss brush against his hairline, and he was grinning as Hunk let him go. 

 

And then Lance jerked in surprise when Shiro leaned in, too. 

 

Shiro seemed a little pained by Lance's flinch, which had Lance lunging, straining his already strained muscles to wrap Shiro up in a tight hug.

 

"Not scared of you," Lance said, muffled by Shiro's shoulder. "Never been scared of  _you._ Promise."

 

"You saved them, you brought Keith in, made him believe you," Shiro replied, one of his hands coming up to ruffle his hair. "You tried to spare a man's life — a man who wasn't acting under his own power. You did good. There's nothing to blame you for."

 

This was all amazing and kind of humiliating, but at this point Lance was too tired to care.

 

However, the exhaustion didn't stop him from winking over at Keith and holding out his arms. "Hey man, where's my hug?"

 

He was  _not_ expecting Keith to take him up on it.

 

Keith held him closely, even more gently than Hunk had, and Lance felt something cool slide down his side — a dagger.

 

"Don't use it unless you have to," Keith muttered. "And ... you were good tonight. Almost as good as me."

 

Lance snorted. "Ass."

 

Keith laughed a little, his hand squeezing Lance's hip once he let go of the dagger. It was strangely comfortable, and Lance didn't quite want to pull away, though it was clearly time for this hug to end.

 

They all stood up, Matt standing guard by the door as everyone, including Ja'Delan, left the room.

 

Matt turned to Lance and said in a very low voice, "Katie, he's all yours. Stay safe, both of you."

 

Lance wasn't entirely sure if that meant Pidge was here, or that she was linked into the comms. His question was answered when, about five minutes later, after the lights had dimmed down for sleep purposes, Pidge just _appeared_ at the foot of Lance's cot.

 

"What the  _cheese,_ Pidge?!" Lance clutched at his chest, his heart pounding beneath his bruises. "Were you trying to finish me off?"

 

"Shut up, I'm  _hungry,_ " she complained, crawling over him to grab Hunk's bag. "But before we eat, you gotta get some of that med gel on you. It'll speed up the healing on those bruises and that cut. Not nearly as good as a healing pod—"

 

"I'll take what I can get," Lance said with a rueful grin. "I mean, this is my fault."

 

Pidge smacked him (lightly) on the shoulder. "You're all pathetic. Can't believe you're blaming yourself for stuff that was so clearly outside of your control. Might as well say the whole war is your fault while we're at it. There are better ways to spend your energy."

 

"Like eating Hunk's cooking?" Lance said, sighing in satisfaction as he pulled out some of the aforementioned food. "Hm. Where are you going to crash? Not on the floor. Pidge, I can—"

 

"I'm not sharing with you," Pidge objected. "Because I kick in my sleep, and you're already a patchwork of bruises. I am not adding to them, especially since you have a massive fight to worry about tomorrow … These comms are short range, which is annoying — I could've gotten Shiro giving you a pep talk right now. He's way better at those than I am. But, you know, you'll win and stuff."

 

"Um, can we not talk about that right now?" Lance said, yawning. "I gotta eat, I gotta heal, and I gotta sleep. That last one is going to be tough since my brain is going all over the place." Except that he contradicted himself by yawning again, wavering in his seated position.

 

Pidge poked him in the forehead. "Not yet, Lance. Hold on. Listen, I've got some good intel we can use, but we won't be able to start dismantling Ja'Delan's network until after tonight. It'll take weeks, and the authorities will need to tread very carefully once we're gone. Oh, and there are guards stationed at five separate points in this hallway alone. I could probably pick the lock and sneak us out, but that would be bad for Ma'Adda and Ko'Lin, so ..."

 

Pidge kept talking, trying to keep Lance awake, and helping Lance apply some med gel to the spots he couldn't reach. Even with the chatter, he felt himself sag into the thin mattress, exhausted beyond reason, trembling as he stared at each bruise, each  _almost too late, almost didn't make it_...

 

"I think my brother and Shiro are a thing," Pidge said, apropos of nothing.

 

Lance jerked awake, straight out of his dark ruminations, to stare at Pidge with his jaw dropped. "No way."

 

"I don't think they're an  _official_ thing. But there's definitely something going on there. Feel free to discuss while we eat. You need to stay awake long enough to get sustenance in you."

 

This distraction tactic worked like a charm, and Lance had a field day dissecting every interaction between Shiro and Matt since the real Shiro returned to them, and  _holy crap,_ Pidge might be right about this.

 

He'd definitely noticed how closely they stood together when they weren't on mission. Or how often Shiro sought out Matt's company for sparring or research purposes. Or that time, when Matt had been flirting with that hot scientist on Kilpor Prime, and Shiro had  _oh so casually_ tripped Matt face first into the swamp, which everyone had found hilarious, including Matt. 

 

 _Wow, who knew Shiro had that in him?_ Lance blushed red at his accidental innuendo, but couldn't resist saying as much out loud, which had Pidge grimacing.

 

"Ugh, let's stop now," Pidge said, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "One, I'm full, and two, gross, they are brothers to me in both the literal and figurative sense. I do not need those kinds of images. Ugh." She gave a full body shudder as she put the food and medical supplies away.

 

Shortly after one last quick look over Lance’s injuries, Pidge fluffed up Hunk’s bag, taking off her coat to use as a blanket. "I'll be right here, if you need me." She flicked on the stealth gear, disappearing from sight. "I have a few sensors keyed into my comm, so we'll know if someone's coming to mess with you. I'll tase their asses before they get within ten feet."

 

"Thanks, Pidge," Lance said quietly, smiling faintly up at the ceiling. He dropped a hand off the edge of the cot. Within seconds, Pidge had grasped it. "Seriously.  _Gracias, chiquilla._ "

 

"You don't need to thank me, Lance," she answered in a whisper. "You're my brother, too. Except that you're my annoying, loud, wait, this is still sounding like Matt, uh, overly flirtatious, wow, you guys are _a lot_ alike, um—"

 

Lance arched an eyebrow even though Pidge couldn't see it. "Handsome? Debonair, even—"

 

"Able to attract certain black-haired Paladins," Pidge muttered.

 

"Yeah — huh, what now?"

 

"Never mind. Go to sleep, Lance."

 

The building was eerily silent. Pidge would have to be up before the guards came in to wake Lance, so she had set an alarm for both of them. Lance didn't let go of her hand. She didn't release him either.

 

He didn't know when he fell asleep, but at some point, everything in his aching body finally completely relaxed, and the sensation of small fingers tangled with his caused a feeling of  _home_ and  _safe_ to settle in his mind, sending him off into a deep, cloudless rest.

 

(Lance had been sure he could win, but he'd been scared. He'd had moments of doubt, and he'd somehow clung to the fact that he wasn't enough, that he'd nearly gotten the people closest to him killed with his mistakes, his arrogance. But they'd never really tried to punish him or shun him for that, had they? They'd stuck with him, and now, with most of his family at his side, his Paladins, his friends, new and old, he didn't have room left in his heart for anything other than them and their faith in him. He could do this, he could  _definitely_ win this.)

 

******

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is! Had to change up the tags a little — that Matt/Shiro thing completely caught me by surprise. It just ended up on the page, and I decided to leave it in there because it felt right. Apologies if that's not your cup of tea — I swear it wasn't in the original vague plan!
> 
> In any case, I thank all of you for being incredible, and sorry for taking a bit longer with this one — this rapidfire fic is now not-so-rapidfire ;) But only one chapter left! Hopefully it won't take me too long! Hugs to all of you who have been willing to read thus far! :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final day — Lance's last match for this fight club. Whether or not he wins, he'll have fulfilled his contract and saved the lives of a small family. But Lance wants to win, for the sake of his own pride, and the pride of his found family, who are _all_ there to support him (and help him survive).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go — last bit of the fic-Mytay-wrote-too-damn-fast. Hopefully the conclusion is satisfying, since endings, whether I'm writing quickly or not, are always the most difficult part of a story for me. Thank you all for your amazingness :D

 

Shiro didn't think Lance needed to stay behind in that place (in fact, he was incredibly  _not okay_ with leaving him there), but knowing that Pidge was with him, and that Lance was determined to stick this out, made it somewhat easier to walk away. Somewhat. Not really. Matt was antsy, too, even though he had every confidence in his little sister's ability to kick all kinds of ass.

 

After that confrontation with Ja'Delan and Lance, they forced themselves to abandon their friends. Hunk and Keith took off in their speeder, while Shiro and Matt followed in theirs — no one spoke until they'd made it home.

 

"This is such bullshit," Keith said once they were together again near the Castle entrance. "We should never have left them behind. What if something happens? What if Ja'Delan just decides to  _kill_ Lance or—"

 

"He's going to make a  _fortune_ off that fight tomorrow," Matt pointed out, leaning back against Shiro for a second, no more than a moment as he crossed his arms.

 

As they made their way back into the Castle, both Shiro and Matt were a little less careful about brushing against each other or leaning into one another's space — the comfort was sorely needed.

 

Matt let loose a sigh. "Lance is safe until said fight. That crook won't risk giving up the chance to make more money than he probably ever has off a single match."

 

"And we can see them first thing in the morning." Hunk breathed deeply a few times, clearly attempting to calm himself. "Lance is going to be fine. Pidge is going to be fine. We'll head over there at, like,  _dawn,_ and see them, and it will all be fine."

 

"Oh, how very convincing," came an elegantly annoyed voice.

 

Shiro stopped walking abruptly, raising his eyes to Allura. She stood before them, right on the threshold of the Castle entrance, her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed, and her mouth set in a grim line.

 

Matt immediately turned on the charm. "Well, hello there, most wise and noble princess, what brings you—"

 

Allura held up a hand, and in said hand she had a rolled-up piece of paper. "Coran and I were taking a tour of the worst districts in the city, as we have trouble believing the politicians' promise to  _clean up these streets._ I found some Voltron merchandise, which is of no real surprise, but then …" She dropped the paper open, and there stood Lance, fist in the air, bloody and triumphant in the middle of the cage, his opponent splayed out on the mat. "There are three kinds of these in circulation, and I was told to expect more by tomorrow. You see, he's a  _contender._ He's a  _real star of the cage._ " Every word was sharp, reprimanding.

 

Shiro moved to stand in front of Hunk, Keith, and Matt. "Allura, I just found out about this tonight, and it's … complicated. They were wrong to hide it from us, but it wasn't entirely within their control." That was stretching the truth a little, but Allura looked about ready to launch them all into Ga'Ulin's sun, so Shiro just wanted her calm, first and foremost, in order to best explain the situation.

 

Her eyes narrowed even further, but she didn't raise her voice or knock Shiro's feet out from under him — good start. "If there's anyone I trust to be reasonable, it's you, Shiro. Let's all reconvene in the kitchen to … Where exactly  _are_ Lance and Pidge?"

 

"Oh, you didn't hear that bit?" Matt said cheerily, stepping up to usher Allura into the Castle. "It's all part of the plan!"

 

Coran had laid out an extremely late dinner for them, but they all only picked at it as Hunk and Keith explained, in detail, what had happened and how Lance had become caught up in this Final Elimination tournament. Coran twirled his mustache worriedly as they spoke, Allura's eyes widened at certain points, and Matt had an expression of perpetual surprise the entire time.

 

Shiro, for his part, couldn't get past certain points of the tale — mostly the very first fight, pre-tournament, in which Lance deliberately threw the match and was thoroughly beaten on. Hunk hadn't spared much description on how black and blue Lance had been in the aftermath. Then, Keith had elaborated on the fight from just the night before, wherein Lance had essentially had his calf muscle completely shredded by his opponent's claws. Unfortunately, Shiro's all too-experienced imagination filled in where either Hunk or Keith's retellings were lacking.

 

"I'm rather shocked that you managed to keep this from me," Coran said, stroking his chin in thought now. "I should've known it was strange how _clean_ everything was around the pods … I do commend Lance for his heroism. I'm proud of all of you, in fact, though I do take exception to the subterfuge."

 

"The lying is the biggest issue, yes," Allura agreed, her frown deepening. "Pidge's hacking skills are considerable, but did you even think of all the resources Shiro, Coran, and I have at our disposal? We're meeting with the heads of government, and all the pertaining ministries,  _every day._  Surely one of them has sources on the inside of Ja'Delan's operations. I'm going to contact the Minister of Justice, and—"

 

"No!" Keith interrupted loudly. "You can't. Look, I trust Pidge over any politician. They haven't done  _anything_ to affect Ja'Delan or others like him, not yet. Maybe not ever. He has lots of high-rolling clients. Can you guarantee that none of them are from the government? From the police?"

 

"If you go to any official, and somehow that information gets back to Ja'Delan …" Matt trailed off, looking stern. "That family is dead. And right now, Lance is trapped in his building. He may not make it out if you anger that boss."

  

"You mentioned going back tomorrow," Allura said, changing tracks quickly. She had a gleam in her eyes that Shiro knew very well at this point — it meant that she had something up her sleeve. "Then, we need a plan. We need several plans, if things don't go as expected. And … we all need to be there. Lance deserves to have his entire family present to cheer him on."

 

"I … what?" Hunk gaped at the princess. "You're just … going to let him do this?"

 

"It was his choice, and the circumstances demanded it of him. He did the best he could in a difficult situation." Allura took out her tablet while she grinned, fierce and uncompromising. "And so, we will do our best for him. Now,  _plans,_ Paladins and company! We will have all possibilities covered, and all opportunities for an advantage explored."

 

Shiro exchanged glances with Matt, who shrugged and grinned back. "Well, let's get this party started then. We'll let Lance save this family, and then we'll save his bacon."

 

"Exactly." Allura nodded. She gave Shiro her tablet. "Shiro, you are our combat leader. Let's start with your ideas, if you please."

 

He flinched back ever so slightly, though his hand automatically reached for the tablet. "I … all right."

 

Matt gave him a thumbs up, and then, as everyone turned their gazes towards Shiro, the ridiculous rebel discreetly blew him a kiss. Shiro felt his lips twitch in response.

 

Not a single one of the stares directed at Shiro contained doubt or fear. Hunk seemed relaxed — even relieved. Keith's shoulders were no longer bunched up high, and Coran's arms were no longer crossed. Allura nodded at him encouragingly, her expression open and determined. Matt's warm affection could be felt at a distance, an eyebrow arched as if to say,  _You got this, Takashi,_ paired with a little smirk … Shiro took it all in with a deep breath. He squared his shoulders and lay his hands flat on the table. 

 

"Right. This is how I think we should start …"

 

******

 

"… Lance? Lance, c'mon, you gotta wake up."

 

Lance groaned, rolling over — and regretting it as all his muscles burned horrifically at the motion. He'd been splayed out on his uninjured side (or rather,  _least_ injured side). Rolling back onto that massive bruise jarred him awake in the worst way. He rubbed his eyes, dislodging the dry bits at the corners. 

 

"Lance, someone will be here soon, so I'm going to turn on the stealth gear." Pidge was kneeling next to his bed, her hand gently holding his shoulder. "But I'll be real close. Turn on your comm, okay?"

 

She waited until Lance nodded, coughing a little as he said, "I got it, Pigeon. Thanks."

 

She rolled her eyes at the nickname, squeezing his shoulder lightly in response as she withdrew and disappeared before his eyes. Her little pile of clothes that she'd slept in was gone — and she'd laid out some of Hunk's snacks for him to eat for breakfast.

 

Lance reached over, grabbing a bottle of water and a few dried fruits. He sat up very slowly, trying to hide his winces — Pidge was watching him like a hawk, no doubt. All the first aid she'd helped him with, it had healed him some, but not entirely, and nowhere near as much as a stay in the cryo pods would have. 

 

The door to his room unlocked and opened as he was finishing off the fruit, sitting on his bed just sipping at his water. The sun was peeking through the hallway behind his guard — a grey dawn.

 

The guard in question was a large Ga'Ulin with dark green skin and a bright, cheerful grin. "Good morning, Paladin Lance!"

 

"Hello." Lance waved. "So … what's going to happen now that I've spent the night?"

 

"Oh, you're free to move about the building," the huge woman said, her hands loosely clutching a large rifle. "I'll be your guard. And I'm here to show you where the training and washing areas are located. I'll be waiting just outside for you to get dressed."

 

Her amiable attitude didn't quite jive with the threatening aura around Ja'Delan the night before. Lance couldn't help asking, "Cool, so, why are you being so nice to me?"

 

"You've been the best thing to happen to Final Elimination in  _years_ ," she replied readily. "Been a blast to watch. Also, won me a fair bit of coin — won't be needing to pick up extra guard shifts for a while." She raised her gun in a  _cheers_  gesture. "Thank you for that!"

 

"You … you're welcome?" Lance finished off his water bottle. "Okay, gimmie a minute, and I'll be right out."

 

She nodded enthusiastically and shut the door behind her.

 

Pidge spoke into Lance's comm, her tone dry. "She's not the only one singing your praises. While I was sneaking around yesterday, I heard all kinds of things about you. Most of it bull, by the way. But it was flattering bull."

 

Lance grinned at nothing in particular. "Yeah, that's the effect of Loverboy Lance. Gonna make 'em all swoon tonight for sure."

 

Pidge was invisible, but Lance could absolutely  _feel_ the eye roll this time.

 

He changed into clothes that weren't ripped or stained with blood (realizing too late he should have saved them for after his shower). He grabbed Keith's dagger — Lance balked for a moment upon seeing the deep crimson hilt, recognizing it as the dagger Shiro had given Keith for his first birthday on the Castle. Keith must have been  _seriously_ worried to give this up, even temporarily. Lance made a mental note to reassure the mullet as much as he could.

 

He tossed his outfit from the night before back in the bag, and carefully concealed the dagger against his spine again.

 

Afterwards, he took a few minutes to investigate his limbs. He stretched carefully, working his arms and legs in very gradual ways, ensuring that everything was fully functional. The pain was there, but it was manageable … for now. His right side was especially sore, with sharp spasms of agony rippling out as he turned and bent low. That would be … not good later on.

 

He breathed deeply for a minute, reminding himself that he'd made it this far. He had been in battles that lasted hours and hours. He'd faced down a clone of Shiro, which had been a fight so gruelling that it made the night he'd nearly lost his leg look like a walk in the park. Nothing could come close to seeing Shiro's face above his, the concentrated cruelty of Haggar shining in his eyes, one flesh hand and one metal hand around Lance's throat, squeezing impossibly tightly.

 

With a shiver, he banished the memory to the darkest corner of his mind. He indulged in some more of Hunk's culinary delights — including something that actually resembled a  _breakfast burrito,_ bless his chef soul. Once he vacuumed that up, Lance opened the door. His guard was standing off to the side, still smiling.

 

"So," Lance stuck out his head, "my manners have woken up now. I'm Lance."

 

She laughed, amused, and took his hand in a firm grip. "Ar'Lun."

 

"Ar'Lun, if you could kindly direct me to where I can wash up, that would be great."

 

" _I have some more first aid stuff with me,_ " Pidge murmured. " _As soon as you're clean, I'll reapply the gel."_

 

Pidge figured out where she could hide, so she didn't become an unintentional voyeur to Lance's shower; by the end of it, Lance sat on a bench, wrapped in a towel, and feeling eons better now that all remnants of blood and sweat were taken care of. Pidge slathered more medical gel on him, taking her time. It was incredibly strange to watch invisible hands tending to his injuries. He flinched every time he felt her fingers make contact with his skin.

 

" _Hey, Pidge, Lance, can you hear us?"_

 

Lance perked up. "Hunk! Hey man, what's shaking?" He tried to keep his voice down, in case Ar'Lun or anyone else was lingering outside the showers, even though Pidge had told him the coast was clear.

 

 _"You somewhere alone? Is Pidge with you?"_ That was Matt's voice.

 

" _I'm here, Matt."_ Pidge was invisible, but Lance could envision her grin regardless. " _Where are you guys?"_

 

_"We're just outside. There's … been some alterations to the plan. But let's start with the easy stuff — Keith and Shiro are here to help you train, Lance."_

 

"That'll be fun," Lance said, staring down at the yellow and green marks on his skin.

 

His biggest bruise hadn't faded much, despite the fact that Pidge had slathered it in gel the night before. Lance watched as that black and blue area (that covered almost his entire right side) became coated in the semi-clear healing gel. He had a suspicion this might be the equivalent of putting a band-aid over a stab wound. Whatever happened tonight, he would _definitely_ be needing a stay in the cryo pods.

 

" _Lance is going to need you guys to go easy,"_ Pidge was saying, her hands gentler than ever.  _"He's not—"_

 

"I am," Lance objected instantly. "Shiro, Keith, you cannot hold back. You can't show them that I'm weak."

 

" _You're not weak, Lance,"_ Shiro was quick to say. 

 

"Well, if you give away that I'm badly injured, you're pretty much announcing as much." Lance ignored Keith's protests, Hunk's concerned inquiry of  _"How injured? Can you fight?"_ and Matt's chattering conversation with Pidge, which included a lot of tech jargon.

 

"Hey!" Lance whipped his head around, scaring himself with how loud he'd spoken, and stared out towards the entrance to the showers. No one came in to investigate. "You all need to relax. Trust me. I'm not saying that I’m weak,like I can't win" —  _he hopes he can win, he really, really does, but he's not so sure anymore_ — "but more like, I have this … not so good weak spot in my side, and I'd really like to  _not_ advertise that to all the world. Got me?"

 

" _We'll do our best,"_ Shiro said with the kind of resolve Lance had always found reassuring.

 

" _I can teach you how to disguise that. And how to fight wounded,"_ Keith offered, sounding oddly neutral

 

Shiro sighed heavily.  _"I really hate that you've developed a strategy for that. Does it include variances depending on how potentially lethal the injury is?"_

 

" _Would it make you feel better to know?"_ Keith countered.

 

" _No, you're right. Just remind me to tell Allura so she can give Kolivan one of her 'I'm very disappointed in you' lectures."_

 

Keith let out a low whine, which had Lance grinning, chuckling a bit even as Pidge poked at the last of his wounds. 

 

He disguised a yelp with a cough, which Hunk did not buy for a second, but Lance drowned out the fresh wave of concern with a loud clearing of his throat. "So! I've gotta hit up the training room, and Pidge, you need to go do … whatever the hell Matt was saying."

 

Pidge pressed a small hand against Lance's injured side, careful and warm. "We've got your back, Lance. I think I've confirmed what Ja'Delan has planned for you, but I'm going to go and make sure, and then … do the thing that'll make sure you don't die."

 

"Sounds excellent," Lance said with a reassuring grin towards the thin air. "I know you'll do the thing and save my butt, Pigeon."

 

She disappeared without another word.

 

Lance listened to Shiro narrate some of their morning as he got dressed.

 

" _We've got more supplies for you. Hunk checked in on Re'Yulon, Ma'Adda, and Ko'Lin before we got here — Re'Yulon is prepped in case they need to make a quick getaway."_

 

"Cool." Lance took several deep breaths. "And then what? What can't you tell me once we're in that room?"

 

" _Pidge is going to confirm her theory, and she didn't want to tell you until she knew for certain … But I think we need to tell you, so you can prepare,"_  Keith said this all in one breath. He ignored all protestations from the rest of the group as he continued on,  _"We're pretty sure Ja'Delan is going to introduce real weapons this time. The kinds of things that can kill way more easily than wooden swords or batons can."_

 

Somehow, this didn't surprise Lance. He was mildly freaked out — something about cage fighting felt vastly different from warring against the Galra Empire — but he could pull on his wartime experience to get him through this. He stretched, determining in which ways his side would let him move, and which ways were most painful. 

 

" _Lance?"_ Shiro seemed so worried. He'd been worrying way, way too much lately. 

 

Lance hated that he had given their leader yet another reason to stress. "It's fine. I got this, Shiro. See you in a tic."

 

He dressed quickly and hid the dagger once more.

 

Ar'Lun had been waiting, leaning against the wall opposite the door when Lance emerged. She grinned, bright and white. "Getting pumped up for the bout? A good idea, considering who you're facing."

 

"And who is that?" Lance probably should've been keeping track of the other rounds, but he'd been too wrapped up in his own training and survival. That had been a basic tactical error, so stupidly amateur of him to make. He pushed down his frustration with himself, grinning back at Ar'Lun as she began guiding him to the training room.

 

"Ka'Mundra." She pronounced the name with dramatic emphasis. "His semi-final match was right after yours. He was born a runt, but he's been the champion of Final Elimination for five deca-phoebs, though not all in a row …"

 

"What happened during the years he didn't win?" Lance asked, eager for any information he could use.

 

She winked. "He didn't compete."

 

 _Well. So much for that._ Lance rolled his shoulders, putting the smile back on as he walked into the huge training area at last, and immediately zeroing in on Shiro, Keith, Hunk, and Matt, all standing on a small raised platform, not unlike a boxing ring.

 

His smile widened genuinely, especially when he saw the not-so-subtle way Shiro put himself between Matt and any curious onlookers, and the way Matt leaned into Shiro's form. Then there was Keith, with his scowl and his crossed arms, and Hunk smiling brightly, waving enthusiastically, with no small amount of relief.

 

The sense of  _home_ that washed over Lance had him straightening his spine, his confidence restored as he strolled on over, ready for anything.

 

******

 

Keith didn't think Lance looked all that bad.

 

His all-black outfit disguised his injuries, and while he had yellow/green marks on his arms and his face, along with a couple of healing cuts, he didn't seem to be limping or favouring one side over the other. But Keith trusted Pidge's evaluation, and so Lance was probably just doing a very good job of concealing his weakness. Which was ideal.

 

However, Keith had to strike at that weak spot — he had to show Lance how to compensate for that kind of injury, how to turn the pain into something he could use.  

 

"Hey, all," Lance said with an expansive wave. "Nice to see you again so soon."

 

Keith pointed at the boxing ring. "Get in. Have you stretched?"

 

"I did, in the room I was so kindly provided with," Lance said, eyeing the guards stationed at various points in the training area.

 

There were a handful of other fighters going through the motions of lifting weights or dangling from iron bars set in the ceiling. Most of them were surreptitiously glancing their way. He guessed that Lance's opponent was training elsewhere, and these people were all here mostly to spy on him, either for Ja'Delan or just to satisfy their own curiosity.

 

Shiro and Matt hadn't told Keith much about the plan — all he knew was that Pidge was going to do something to help Lance out with weapon choices. Also, that Allura and Coran were playing a part. Shiro had said this was because Keith needed to be … himself, for this. Which had been far too vague for Keith, who was used to strict mission parameters from the Blades.

 

Shiro had relented, but he only clarified slightly by saying, " _There's a point where we need you to react, without thinking, with that temper of yours.”_ Keith hadn't wanted to be left in the dark, but Shiro, Matt, and Hunk had all reassured him that this was the best way to keep Lance alive.

 

Once they entered the training area, there was no more discussing — too many eyes and ears on them.

 

Lance slid into the boxing ring, and Keith followed him. Shiro whispered something to Matt, which had Keith frowning because  _they were supposed to be as open and unsuspicious as possible,_ and muttering secrets seemed like a bad idea …But Matt just shoved at their leader and laughed, which was remarkably good acting on his part.

 

Shiro and Matt leapt up, the two of them gripping either side of one corner post. They both began stretching, ready to begin training.

 

Hunk remained on the floor, and he put a hand through the boxing ring’s ropes, grabbing Lance's ankle. "Hey, dude, don't put it all out there now. Save it for the fight later, right?"

 

"Yeah, buddy," Lance said, smiling. "I know. Thanks for all the snacks by the way. And that burrito? Perfection. Awesome food for fuel."

 

Hunk squeezed his ankle once before letting go. "Great. I brought some more with me, so you better kick Keith's ass to earn it."

 

"Hey," Keith protested mildly, raising an eyebrow.

 

Hunk laughed and shot him with a finger gun, which had Lance chuckling.

 

Keith gave Lance a moment to enjoy himself before he dropped and tried to swipe his legs out from under him, sending him crashing onto the mat. _Tried_ was the operative word — Lance had shifted his stance, falling back into a flip, which got him a sound of approval from the guards. His acrobatics were particularly different when compared to the combat style of the Ga'Ulin, Keith had noticed. He was impressed by how well Lance was incorporating those moves into his fighting — developing a style all his own.

 

Keith struck again, this time using an elbow against the injury to Lance's side (though he didn't apply much force). Lance's hoarse cry was cut off as he clamped his mouth shut, his eyes glaring at Keith.

 

Lance backed away swiftly, clearly making a concentrated effort not to press a hand against that bruise.

 

Keith nodded, and then gestured with his arms; he raised them up, a classic fighter's pose, and Lance mirrored him automatically. Then Keith subtly stepped back with one foot, one of his arms dropping, still more or less in the same position, but partially shielding his side.

 

Lance's eyes, narrowed in pain, now widened, and his smile reappeared. "Gotcha, dude."

 

He once again imitated Keith, and then he spun towards him, kicking in a wide arc. Keith caught his leg, but Lance grabbed at the arms Keith had used to stop his kick, using them as grips to launch himself up and _over_. Shiro, Matt, and Hunk cheered while Lance hooked Keith's neck in one arm as he came back down, driving Keith hard into the mat, knocking the air from his lungs.

 

Shiro stepped into the ring, standing directly over Keith with a broad grin. "Well, I think it's my turn to take a shot at Lance, since you're down."

 

Keith held back on the urge to stick out his tongue and stick up a certain finger, as he wasn't the same angry teen Shiro had mentored. Well, he wasn't  _exactly_ the same.

 

Shiro had different pointers for Lance, ones he also tried to convey without speaking out loud, without telegraphing his moves. Keith stared hard at Lance, making sure that there were no hesitations in his movements, no indications of clumsiness. Lance still had a strange stop-start flow, but it seemed to work for him. He was smooth when he needed to be … Keith flushed at his own thoughts, turning away to see Matt arching an eyebrow at him.

 

"Feeling a little warm there?" Matt had the kind of grin that, quite honestly, reminded Keith of Lance at his most obnoxious. 

 

He scowled back. "No. Just trying to see if Lance is missing anything."

 

Matt nodded, his smile fading into a more solemn look. "He's getting a little fancier with the moves … Shiro is about to teach him that those kinds of flashy antics don't always work …"

 

The sound of Lance slamming into the mat echoed around the training area. The guards actually made low noises in sympathy.

 

Keith looked back to see Lance wheezing on the boxing ring floor while Shiro had him pinned. Shiro stood up quickly, and his eyes went a little … distant.

 

"I'm sorry, Lance," Shiro said in a raspy voice, even though he wasn't the one who had nearly been knocked unconscious. "I just … You can't be using that move on a champion like the one you're facing tonight.”

 

He seemed more hurt than Lance, somehow, and before Keith could think of something to say or do, Matt had swooped into the ring, his cloak left dangling on one of the ropes. "Hey, Shiro, my turn now, okay? Take a water break."

 

Shiro didn't fight Matt on this at all, which Keith found a tad strange, but he didn't worry too much — he found his concerns shifting over mostly to Lance, at the moment, and he didn't have energy to spare for anything else. His worry for Shiro would need to wait until after this fight was over.

 

But he couldn't resist at least one check-in with his brother.

 

"You all right?" Keith asked Shiro quietly, as Matt began to walk in a circle around Lance, who imitated him immediately.

 

"Yeah," Shiro answered shortly. Then he sighed. "Yeah, it's … not fine. But it's getting better. I just … don't like hurting you guys."

 

"You don't," Keith said immediately. "You haven't.  _He_ did. But even he didn't want to, not really. No version of you could ever  _want_ to hurt us."

 

Shiro gave him a wan smile. "I think you have a little too much faith in me."

 

"I have just the right amount," Keith countered. "And even more, to make up for the little faith you have in yourself."

 

Shiro's eyes widened. Keith regretted his bluntness, so he reached out to put a hand on Shiro's shoulder. Words had never been his strong suit, not when it came to really important things. He tried for a reassuring smile, and Shiro's own expression became more sincere, even a touch serene.

 

That's when the sound of Lance hitting the mat  _again_ reverberated throughout the gym. Matt had him on the ground, arm pinned behind his back, one of his knees buried in Lance's spine.

 

Lance tapped out, groaning. "Holy crap, dude. That was  _harsh._ "

 

"Yeah, well, you gotta learn, buddy," Matt said cheerfully. He leaned down, whispering something into Lance's ear. Lance started laughing, even though he was still in a supremely awkward, painful position.

 

Keith glared, hand falling away from Shiro's shoulder. "Hey! He doesn't need to be any more bruised up before this fight."

 

This earned him another raised eyebrow from Matt, and Shiro actually _laughing_ at him.

 

So Keith wasn't subtle. Whatever. Matt Holt needed to ease the hell up, right now, before Lance was crippled in a way that would get him killed later.

 

Which apparently wasn't as late as Keith thought it would be, as the bouncer who was normally stationed outside the building was now entering the gym. He was joined by the woman who had escorted Lance here in the first place.

 

"Paladin Lance," the bouncer greeted him, his grin fierce. "Maybe you should save your energy for the bout?"

 

"Not if I wanna win you some money," Lance said, sitting up and running a hand through his hair.

 

Keith eyed him, watching as Lance stood, stretching and not showing a single hint that his right side was paining him. Which was good. But now Keith was having second thoughts — because what if Lance was bleeding internally, like Shiro had suggested last night?

 

"Well, in that case, I guess you're ready to go, then. Good — because the match starts in a varga."

 

" _What?"_ Keith jumped down from the ring, striding over to the smug guy, his fists clenched. He had a knife in his boot, and if he didn't think it would have terrible consequences, he would have reached for it. " _Ja'Delan said we could train with him, that we could—"_

 

"He never specified for how long," the bouncer said disinterestedly. "A varga is enough time to get more bruising in, if you want. It's definitely enough time to get everyone who would've come to the match tonight to show up — Ja'Delan sent out runners at dawn to announce the time change. Some folks are shutting down their businesses to come to this final. Gonna be packed."

 

The bouncer gave them all a salute, his smirk fading into a rather sincere smile — not that Keith cared because  _screw everyone in this damn place_.

 

"Thank you for your service, Paladins." The alien man walked away without a care.

 

The woman stayed behind, her cheery disposition soured by a frown. "Sorry, Lance, they just told me now …" She glanced around at the guards — many were sharing whispers, and they didn't seem much happier by the turn of events than Keith felt.

 

He didn't think any of it was sympathy for Lance; he was sure they were just annoyed that their schedules had been disrupted by this sudden change. He glanced over at Shiro, and Shiro gave the subtlest of nods. So, this had been the thing they hadn't told Keith about. And Keith had played his part, apparently. He grimaced, turning back to Lance's personal guard.

 

"It's all right, Ar'Lun." Lance shrugged, and for the first time since he strolled into the room, a hint of exhaustion peeked through the boastful, charming mask. "Today's the day. Better get it over with."

 

She looked at each of the Paladins, and Keith realized he hadn't moved from his protective position. He squared his shoulders, his hand hovering, posed to dive down and reach into his boot.

 

Ar'Lun just smiled at him, saying directly to Keith, "It's been an honour to see you all. I'll be waiting over here, to take you to the arena."

 

Keith could hear Lance slide out from the ring, and then feel him standing right behind him. "Thanks. Hey, c'mon, Keith. I'm sure there's more you and Shiro can teach me in an hour."

 

A hand brushed against Keith's back, and Keith turned around quickly, trying to avoid an embarrassing reaction to the friendly touch. Unfortunately, he had been closer than Keith realized, and now he stood nose to nose with Lance, whose blue eyes had widened in surprise. Unlike Keith, Lance recovered in a second, shaking his head and stepping away — his hand reached over and shoved lightly at Keith's shoulder.

 

"Hey, ease up on the intensity. You look like  _you're_ the one about to throw down in a cage." Lance gave him a mock glare. "We aren't in competition anymore, dude."

 

"Big talk from the guy who started that pointless rivalry in the first place," Keith shot back.

 

Lance shrugged, his grin sheepish. "Yeah, well, you didn't have to give in to my shenanigans! Although, I get it — I _am_ a golden example for all to follow."

 

Keith couldn't hold back the eye roll … or the half-smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. "You better get back in that ring so I can kick your ass now, so  _you_  can kick ass later."

 

Lance threw an arm around Keith's shoulders, tugging him in close. "Thanks, Keith."

 

He said it with utmost sincerity, fondness coating every syllable — Keith knew him well enough to hear it. And so Keith let himself have one thing. Just one small distraction before he slid back into battle mode. He slid his own arm around Lance's waist, squeezing lightly, giving Lance his own most real smile — small, tentative, but completely sincere.

 

"You don't need to thank me," he said quietly. "You're one of my best friends."

 

Being with the Blades, nearly dying more times than he could count — he'd learned that it hurt to leave things unsaid. But he still wasn't very good at articulating those unspoken thoughts and feelings, and he still had trouble with what both Lance and Shiro had told him — that his life and happiness were actually  _important,_ even beyond  _the mission_  at times. He should never feel ashamed for expressing any wants or needs …

 

Seeing Lance's blue eyes glimmer, seeing that mouth form a little _'oh'_  of shock, followed by one of the brightest grins Keith had ever seen … Maybe he'd be expressing those feelings more often, if it got him a reaction like that. Maybe he'd be able to find that courage he had trouble accessing outside of missions, and use it for something that had nothing to do with saving the universe, and everything to do with just … keeping that bit of brightness close.

 

But first, Lance had to go and win this — had to go and be the champion. The knight in blood-caked armour. The one Keith was infinitely proud to call his friend.

 

******

 

Lance wanted to feel more ready. He wanted to be pumped.

 

But this was the last fight, and the first fight he wasn't fully healed for. He hadn't slept well. Hadn't had a full Hunk-created lunch, or an afternoon with his fellow Paladins, Ma'Adda, and Ko'Lin. He was aching all over, his side especially painful.

 

Keith's dagger was a cool presence against his spine. He had considered giving it back to Keith — he didn't want to cheat. But Ja'Delan hadn't exactly been playing fair, and Lance expected that unfairness to increase in this match. The time shift was just the beginning.

 

Pidge was cloaked at his side. He had his comm on, so he could hear her, though he couldn't reply back, not with Ar'Lun at his other side. The guard hadn't permitted the others to follow him into the back area on his side of the arena. Instead, Ar’Lun announced that Ja'Delan had  _kindly_ allowed them all free seating down in front.

 

Shiro had squeezed Lance close, whispering in his ear, " _You're a damn good Paladin, Lance. You've already made us proud."_

 

Matt had clapped Lance on the shoulder before being overtaken by Hunk, who had swooped in to crush Lance (gently, carefully) to his chest, tearfully ordering him to, " _Kick all the ass, and then get your ass back home safe, or you will be in Brunch-Do debt for a year. No take-backs."_

 

Pidge had tugged on Lance's fingers, telling everyone, " _Hey, we got this. We knew about the time change. We've got this, Lance."_

 

Now she was informing him, " _I am going to head into the cage with you, but just at the beginning for the weapon's selection. You have to act surprised, by the way. You're not supposed to know that Ja'Delan is introducing lethal weapons into this Final Elimination. If Keith hadn't told you …"_

 

 _"Shut up, Pidge, Lance is a better actor than me — he can fake his way through this,"_ Keith grumbled from wherever he was.

 

Lance coughed to hide a snort, and then gave a subtle nod, holding his breath as they got closer to the arena; he could already hear the rumblings of the crowds. Even with the sudden switch in time, people had made their way here. Lots of people, by the sounds of it.

 

Ar'Lun directed Lance to the prep room, where he ducked in to quickly style his hair the way he normally did for these fights — a suave, off-centre part, pushed off his forehead. He reached into his small bag of toiletries, which he'd stored there earlier in the week, whipping out the one thing he hadn't bothered with until now — a touch of dramatic eyeliner. He studied himself in the mirror, the confident knight staring out at him with dangerous, gleaming eyes, lined heavily, the edge of a smile, sharp and remorseless. If he could act the part, he could  _be_ the part.

 

He walked back out feeling better, sensing Pidge at his side and the presence of his friends somewhere amongst the crowds. They had a plan, and Lance had the ability to see it through.

 

Ja'Delan was not present. A no-show again, no doubt making sure to pull all the strings directly — to do everything possible to hammer Lance into the ground. He took in a few deep breaths, zoning out, actually missing the announcer's opening remarks, his lengthy introductions of the fighters.

 

Ar'Lun waited several beats after the announcer screeched his name, winking over her shoulder. "Pause for dramatic effect." Then she shoved open the double doors, stepping to one side to allow Lance to take up the spotlight. 

 

The screaming was deafening. Louder than it had been any of the previous nights. The crowds felt wilder — more enthusiastic, more bloodthirsty, more _everything._

 

Lance didn't wink or blow kisses this time. He just walked straight backed, showing off his fading bruises and healing cuts, with what he hoped was a vaguely threatening look — the kind of smirk Keith wore right before he destroyed everything in his path.

 

Lance made it to the cage in what felt like no time at all, and that was when he got his first look at Ka'Mundra.

 

The Ga'Ulin champion was Lance's height, but he was probably nearly twice his weight with all that muscle. Despite that, he managed to have a lithe, lazy look to him, his rich purple skin scarred noticeably in several spots, his eyes dark — the two colours were nearly the same, maybe black and dark blue. He stood with his arms dangling loosely at his sides, his head tilting towards Lance in greeting. Lance returned the gesture as one of the small stagehands jumped into the cage between them, holding up the blue bag — this time, the bag had a bright silver mark on it, one that drew gasps from the multitude as it showed up on the screen.

 

" _For the first time in Final Elimination history, we have a match between two titans of the arena, and they will be using … true warrior weapons."_

 

Lance staggered back, his eyes growing huge, but then he recovered, his nonchalance in place. Pidge murmured, " _Nice acting._ " Lance had to hold back a smile.

 

" _Our honoured champion, Ka'Mundra, shall have first draw!"_

 

Ka'Mundra walked over, his eyes on Lance as his hand slid into the bag. He didn't hesitate — just immediately whipped out a small stone, holding it up for the cameras. On screen, the symbol was one that Lance could easily interpret.

 

" _The broadsword — our nation's favoured weapon!"_

 

The cheering involved foot stamping this time, as people struggled to make themselves heard.

 

Pidge pressed in close to Lance's side. " _This is it. I am going to put my hand in the bag, and I'm going to hand you a stone."_

 

Lance waited until the stagehand brought the bag over to him, the announcer silencing the crowd as he roared,  _"And now, the saviour of our beautiful Ga'Ulin, a defender of the universe — Paladin Lance, choose your fate!"_

 

He reached in, and Pidge's small hand was right there, alongside his — they were both trying to be careful. Even though Pidge was invisible, she had to keep herself from jostling the bag too much, from knocking into the stagehand … She handed Lance the stone, and he squeezed tightly. He didn't look at it as he raised his hand, holding it over his head the same way Ka'Mundra had.

 

The crowd went dead silent. Then confused murmurs started up.

 

Lance craned his head to stare up at the huge screen, to see what he had in his grip — a symbol …  _that looked like a Voltron bayard._

 

 _"We … that isn't one of ours,"_ the announcer sputtered, confused, " _Unless … a new weapon … This is truly a game for the ages. But what is this—"_

  

"It is a weapon unique to the defenders of the universe," came a voice Lance would recognize anywhere, anytime.

 

Allura appeared, shining in a bright light, right beside the screen; her voice was projected clearly to all, Pidge murmuring, " _Tapped into their security comm system. They can't override her."_

 

Everyone in the arena seemed to be in awe — the princess was dressed in full Paladin armour with an additional cape, her hair loose, her blue whip bayard at her side. She held it up, and then it transformed into its base form — the symbol painted on the stone Lance still held aloft. He brought it down just as Allura brought hers down, her smile now projected onto the screen. She reached behind her and held up the red bayard.

 

"If you're going to have a bout such as this, then the best way to test the mettle of the warriors is to have them use the weapons they are most skilled at, no?"

 

This got the mob on her side instantly, and they all made way for her as she marched down the stands. In moments, they were all on their feet and shouting their approval; Allura leapt from one of the railings to land on the ground, walking coolly and confidently up to the cage. She took another, smaller jump inside, and handed Lance the bayard without preamble.

 

Lance had been sure that Allura would be  _furious_ with him, but she seemed … completely at ease. Even happy, in a dangerous sort of way, as she evaluated Lance's opponent, all while still beaming.

 

She grasped Lance's upper arm, her grip unrelenting as she said, "You do this to save lives, but there's no harm in taking some pride in your skills, Lance. No harm in showing these people what a Paladin of Voltron is capable of." 

 

Lance suspected he'd just gotten the royal Altean version of  _give 'em hell._ He grinned back, putting the hand clutching his red bayard over his heart.

 

"I didn't realize defenders of the universe cheated, though considering how I met your Blue Paladin here …" Ja'Delan stood just outside the cage, his pose casual, his eyes promising murder.

 

Allura turned to face him, her master diplomat face on. "We had no idea that you would be changing the time of this bout. I only found out about Lance's involvement in these matches after the most recent fight. He's been here the entire night without us, under guard. A few Paladins arrived this morning, also under guard, and I just arrived now, escorted by your bouncer. When would we have 'cheated'?"

 

Ar'Lun had been standing just outside the cage, and she confirmed quickly, "Boss, that's all true. I've been standing guard this whole time. Paladin Lance hasn't been out of my sight. And the others … You should’ve seen them when they found out about the time change …" She frowned but shifted into a neutral expression when Ja'Delan narrowed his gaze. "One of them looked fit to kill Yu'Ferol. They didn't know."

 

A few other guards were nodding, and the crowd was growing restless. Someone … and it sounded like  _Hunk? …_ started up a chant, " _Let them fight! Let them fight!"_

 

Ja'Delan shook his head, and his smile was one of surrender. "Then I suppose I have someone in my ranks looking to support the Paladin in his noble quest. No matter. I have seen the footage from your war on the Empire here on Ga'Ulin. No gunnery weapons are permitted, and you, Paladin Lance, favour rifles."

 

Lance felt a shiver of anticipation go through him. It was true — up until this point, he hadn't used his blade in battle. He'd wanted to train with Keith and Shiro as much as possible before attempting it. Now seemed as good a time as any to, as Allura said,  _show everyone what a Paladin was capable of._

 

Lance stood up even straighter, holding his bayard out. "You don't know as much as you think, Ja'Delan."

 

His bayard transformed into his red Altean broadsword. The sound of thousands of Ga'Ulins gasping, followed by their raucous ovation, had Lance grinning proudly.

 

Ja'Delan seemed to finally fully concede, gifting Allura with the slightest bow. "Well, this shall make the final more interesting. No more interruptions. We shall have our fight!"

 

The cheering reached deafening heights again.

 

Allura walked out of the cage, giving Lance one last affirming nod. Pidge squeezed Lance's hand impossibly tight before following after the princess, unseen by all. Lance watched as the princess went to sit right beside everyone else in the front row … Including Coran, who held a giant banner, painted in lurid colours, sparkling with the words:  _Paladin Lance, Shine Like a Star, Lance Through Their Hearts!_ It was a tad … gory, there, but Lance shot Coran a thumbs up, which was reciprocated instantly.

 

" _You're gonna be amazing,"_ Hunk said quickly, beaming from the first row. " _Love you, buddy. You're already a winner to me."_

 

 _"Get your shine,"_ Allura commanded with a broad smile. " _And give the universe another reason to trust in Voltron."_

 

 _"Quiznak 'em up,"_ Pidge said happily. 

 

" _Katie!"_ Matt scolded. " _But yeah, what she said — quiznak 'em all the way up."_

 

" _I regret teaching you all that word,"_ Coran said primly. " _But I quiznaking concur!"_

 

Keith breathed in deeply. " _No hesitation. No quarter given."_

 

 _"Lance, turn off your comm,"_ Shiro said quietly, his smile one that managed to somehow radiate both fear and pride.  _"No distractions. Just win this."_

 

Lance had to bite down to keep from grinning like an idiot, even as the stagehands were rushing around, seeking the weapon for Ka'Mundra. He followed Shiro's first order without issue, and knew he could handle the second,  _he just knew it._

 

The stagehands scrambled to prepare the lock for the cage door, and one dashed in to pass a heavy two-handed broadsword to Ka'Mundra. Then she bolted back out, slamming the door shut behind her. The padlock fell in place less than a second later.

 

Ka'Mundra didn't strike right away.

 

He adjusted his grip on the sword, took one step back, and said, "You are not the most frightening person I've ever seen. But I lived my entire life being underestimated because of my size." He held still, perfectly poised, and Lance felt his body settle into its own starting position. "I will not underestimate you, Paladin. And if you die, it will be your own doing in underestimating me."

 

"Not going to happen," Lance said calmly. "I respect all of my opponents. I'm even scared of a few. It's kept me alive this long. I have people to save and people to come home to. You won't be keeping me from those promises."

 

"I have promises of my own. Let's see who becomes an oath breaker today."

 

They moved at the same time.

 

******

 

Hunk had never been prouder of his best friend. He'd also never been more terrified.

 

The speed at which those swords were striking each other, the sparks that came off the blades — it all made his stomach churn. But he didn't dare take his eyes off the cage, unbearably close, yet not close enough to help.

 

He watched with unblinking eyes as Lance twirled, his arms trembling when Ka'Mundra swung with all his force towards his head — Lance raised his bayard up immediately, but the strength behind the blow had him shuddering. He leapt back, regrouping, his bare feet making no sound as he prowled the outer edges.

 

Lance looked dangerous, Lance looked  _lethal …_

 

And then he grinned suddenly, dropping into a cartwheel, causing Ka'Mundra to stumble in his approach, completely bemused by the motion — which gave Lance time to rise up and strike at the champion's back, slicing a thick line along his shoulder blades that began bleeding immediately.

 

Ka'Mundra didn't react to the injury, even as Hunk shouted his approval. Shiro was on Hunk's left, yelling Lance's name, switching to a warning as the Ga'Ulin champion made to strike at Lance's left leg. 

 

But Ka'Mundra pulled back at the last moment, catching Lance as he spun to avoid the blow — hitting the flat of his broadsword against Lance's horrifically bruised right side.

 

Hunk grabbed at Coran's shoulder, desperate to keep from crying out as Lance staggered back, the colour draining from his face as he fought to stay on his feet. His jaw was rigid, a muscle jumping in his cheek — Lance was either holding back a scream or vomit. Hunk felt Coran reach up, gripping his hand.

 

There was no way Ka'Mundra had missed Lance's reaction. But Lance was moving even faster, somehow, with strength Hunk couldn't even begin to fathom. He was reminded strongly of Keith barrelling through Galra droids, unstoppable, uncatchable.

 

Lance used the cage to spring himself up and over Ka'Mundra's head. He swung down, and Ka'Mundra managed to reach backwards with his blade, block that first blow. However, in the time it took him to spin around and meet Lance face-on, Lance had swung a second blow, catching Ka'Mundra in his left side. Lance had used the flat of his blade  _hard,_ and Ka'Mundra recoiled.

 

Lance didn't stop. He pushed, blow after blow, faster and faster, and when Ka'Mundra tried to rally, Lance would flip backwards, or swing to the side, using the cage for his acrobatics. It was like watching some kind of gymnastic routine, but done with a sword in hand, and with the intention to knock the other gymnast down and  _out._

 

Ka'Mundra caught Lance in the shoulder, but Lance had dropped down in an instant, ignoring the blood pouring forth as he actually managed to  _roll between Ka'Mundra's legs_ and surge up behind him, his blade right at the alien's neck. Ka'Mundra froze, then tried to strike at him blindly — the blow glanced off Lance's temple. He'd ducked without losing his grip, though the blade had nicked him. He blinked away the blood and pressed his sword close enough to bite into Ka'Mundra's neck — and yet more blood hit the mat.

 

"No!" Ka'Mundra spluttered. He dropped his blade and actually  _gripped Lance's bayard with his bare hands._ He yanked it away from his neck, and droplets of blood sprayed everywhere as his hands  _nearly lost fingers pulling that off._

 

Lance lunged, but Ka'Mundra raised his blade just in time. Yet his grip was slipping. Pain, blood, all of it making it impossible for him to hold out much longer, and Hunk was ready for this to be over, since Lance had  _totally dominated_ this fight …

 

" _Hold!"_ The announcer screamed out. " _Hold, for we have another unprecedented event!"_

 

"You have got to be joking!" came an outraged shout.

 

Hunk felt more than saw Matt lunge to keep Keith in his seat. When Hunk glanced over his way, he could see that Keith blatantly gripped his Blade of Marmora dagger, though he hadn't unlocked the blade.

 

Keith also looked ready to commit bloody murder. "No, enough of this bull, Lance,  _get out of there!"_

 

Stagehands were scrambling again, and medics were rushing into the cage — Lance was yanked away from Ka'Mundra by a couple of the doctors or nurses, who were quick to wipe the blood off his face, applying some of the most efficient slap-dash medical attention Hunk had ever witnessed, and he'd been fighting in a  _war_ the last couple of years. Ka'Mundra was also seen to, his fingers slathered with healing gel and wrapped individually.

 

But none of it made sense — why the hell would Ja'Delan interrupt his final match like this? 

 

" _I have nothing, guys!"_ Pidge rushed to say, sounding vaguely panicked. " _I don't know, this wasn't something Ja'Delan kept stored on his network—"_

 

"It's all right, Katie," Matt said, his hands forming fists over his knees. "Whatever this is, we can handle it—"

 

" _I … I am receiving word that … we have a former champion …. The first winner of Final Elimination. Fe'Rulin, returning from obscurity to fight once again?"_ There were shocked murmurs, a buzz that rose into a roar. " _No, not just fight … Fe'Rulin, joining forces with Ka'Mundra to finally thwart the Paladin of Voltron?"_

 

Hunk leapt to his feet, and he wasn't alone.

 

While Matt had Keith all but pinned down, Shiro was marching over to the cage. As soon as he got close, he was held back by several guards.

 

Allura stood up on her seat, and Pidge apparently needed no prompting to tap Allura back into the security comm system, her voice booming out. " _This is outrageous. Since when do you consider two against one a fair fight? Two against one who has already fought hard, already practically defeated his opponent!"_

 

 _"Practically_ isn't decisive defeat," Ja'Delan said without any shame whatsoever. Hunk had a feeling that if people weren't so scared of him, there'd be booing from the stands. As it was, the multitudes were quieting down to hear what he had to say. "And since a Paladin coupled with his magic weapon is nigh on impossible to conquer, then I think all that is happening is an  _evening up of the odds."_

  

Allura looked apoplectic with rage, and Matt seemed to be considering letting Keith go, his own face a hard, unreadable mask.

 

Hunk felt himself shifting into battle mode. He was already sizing up the guards holding up Shiro — the only reason Shiro hadn't taken them down was the sheer number of them present, and the ever looming threat on the lives of Re'Yulon, Ma'Adda, and Ko'Lin. But Hunk was ready to start a war — a war on a smaller scale, waged on the streets of this crime-ridden city. For Lance, for that family, Hunk was ready to be  _done._

 

"I agree."

 

Everyone froze. As one, they all looked up towards the cage. Lance stood there, the blood cleaned away, though the injuries were still fresh and obvious. Ka'Mundra stood on the other side, his arms crossed, a frown heavy on his face. The medics were gone, but the cage door was open … And Lance wasn't walking out.

 

"Let's make it even. And when I win, you owe me  _double_ whatever my bet earnings are, Ja'Delan." Lance stared the boss down, his gaze unflinching. "Considering I'm facing  _double_ the opposition."

 

"Lance—" Shiro stared up at him, his Galra arm faintly glowing. A few of the guards stepped back, clearly uncertain what to make of that. "Lance, no, this is it."

 

"Please, after everything else we've fought against?" Lance's arrogance was on full display, and this was  _earned_ boastfulness. "Unfair fights are all we ever have with the Galra. This feels right at home to me."

 

Keith finally broke free of Matt. He marched right up to Shiro's side, and just his  _expression_ had the guards flinching, let alone his unleashing of the Blade of Marmora dagger to its full form.

 

Every single huge, bulking thug took one look at Keith, a second look at Shiro, and then seemed to glance imploringly towards Ja'Delan.

 

All the crime boss did was smile, pointing at both Keith and Shiro. "Well, Paladins? Your fellow warrior has agreed to the terms. Will you dishonour him now?"

 

"You can take your ' _honour,'_ which is rich coming from a slug like you," Keith snarled, "and shove it right up—"

 

"No, we won't dishonour him. But we will remember this, Ja'Delan," Allura said to all and sundry. This was Allura at her most intimidating, and her whip bayard snapped warningly towards the guards, who were inching back over to Shiro and Keith. They all looked like they wanted to retire right then and there. "The fight … goes on."

 

Which would be when the bouncer, the massive, grizzled guy who had been happily betting on Lance, slid into the cage with a smug little grin, causing Lance to whip around.

 

The guy reached out, his hand enormous. "We haven't been properly introduced, Paladin. While I go by Yu'Ferol now, back in my golden years, I was known as Fe'Rulin. Only fought the one Final Elimination, but you've inspired me, Lance. I'd like to reclaim my title."

 

Lance gawked at him as the audience shouted out in bewilderment. Hunk's jaw dropped. Lance recovered enough to shake the guy's hand, and then he was … smiling? Grinning, even. Had Lance hit his head?

 

While Hunk fretted, his best friend whipped back to face them, his eyes brighter than ever. "Let's do this!"

 

The crowds surged up to their feet, cheering on his resilience.

 

Hunk wanted to shout his support, but he was paralyzed with fear. Lance was favouring his right side — he was hurting, bad. And now he wanted to  take on _two_ cage-fighting champions?

 

Hunk looked to Shiro, hoping their leader would put a stop to this madness.

 

Shiro had backed off from the guards, returned to his seat, Matt close to his side. Neither of them seemed like they were going to stop this. Allura had dropped back to her chair, Coran was grim-faced and tightly clutching his banner … Even Keith was retreating, though his blade was still out and ready to stab.

 

While everyone looked serious … No one seemed to be as scared as Hunk felt. This made him angry for a single moment, but then he forced himself to remember that Lance had been  _winning._ Had  _won_ until Ja'Delan pulled this nasty switch. While Lance had some serious odds against him, they all knew that he would come out on top. He would survive. 

 

When Hunk calmed down, he knew that his brother-in-all-but-blood could do this — his only concern was how much pain Lance would have to endure before he got to that victory.

 

The last thing Lance needed was to see his best friend doubting him. So Hunk shoved away every last piece of panic and gave Lance his fiercest Paladin grin, holding up one fist. "The champ is here!"

 

Lance laughed, holding up his fist as well.

 

When Fe'Rulin drew his weapon from the bag — a  _spear_ — Lance didn't shrink back or cower. He stood, waiting as the stagehands brought out a huge spear. Battle calm seemed to settle around him; a certain peace with the inevitable. That serenity reached out to Hunk, and he could feel his muscles loosening …

 

Until the cage slammed shut and Fe'Rulin knocked Lance's feet right out from under him.

 

******

 

Lance had known this would suck, so when his back hit the mat, hard, sending shooting pains down his injured side, he didn't allow himself even a moment to cry out. He just rolled, somersaulting to his feet, still crouched so he could avoid Ka'Mundra swinging his sword just over his head. The smaller Ga'Ulin definitely wasn't as spry as he'd been at the beginning — his sliced fingers were interfering with his grip, healing gel or not, and he was also just plain tired.

 

Lance could relate.

 

His bones creaked, his knees cracking as he stood up, blocking two blows, one from each opponent in quick succession. He felt every muscle straining to keep moving.

 

Ka'Mundra was letting Fe'Rulin do most of the work, keeping Lance jumping and flipping away from the long reach of that spear. Ka'Mundra would then dart in if Lance took even half a second to breathe. 

 

Within the first thirty seconds of this fight, Lance had been sliced at maybe half a dozen times. He was bleeding, he was exhausted, and he wasn't going down. He grit his teeth, and he pulled a quick side-step — he would keep Ka'Mundra between himself and Fe'Rulin. The two champions weren't used to fighting as a unit, not like Lance and his team. They could improvise, as skilled fighters could, but to truly work as one required practice.

 

And Lance could see the holes in their defence now. They would both come at him, but they couldn't account for his speed or flexibility — not without bumping into each other, or unintentionally blocking one another. They would pause, try and figure out which way to catch him, and that would give Lance enough time to change directions and foil them again.

 

He grinned, shivering, feeling too stretched out — the adrenaline was doing its work, and his side had gone numb … This would all be very bad later on, but right now, it was providing the energy surge he needed to sharpen his focus and  _move._ He got Ka'Mundra to back up, right into Fe'Rulin, and as he struggled to regain his footing, Lance dropped and sliced right into the sole of his foot.

 

Fe'Rulin was knocked into the cage as Ka’Mundra jerked backwards into him. But even with his foot bleeding, every step visibly agonizing, Ka'Mundra found the strength to grab Lance with his free hand, snagging his shirt by a rip in the collar (so much for  _tight clothes, Keith!_ ) to pull him in towards the spear Fe'Rulin had raised above Ka'Mundra's shoulder.

 

The spear that would  _go right through Lance's skull_ …

 

Except Lance didn't get a skull piercing.

 

Without conscience thought, his free hand had reached for Keith's dagger at his back, using it to deflect the spear. Fe'Rulin couldn't wield his weapon effectively now, not with Lance so close, and Ka'Mundra between them.

 

Lance switched his grip on the dagger, spinning it in one hand to block a clumsy swipe of Ka'Mundra's sword.

 

The announcer was yelling something, but no one had come forth to unlock the cage — which Lance took as implicit approval to continue along with his illegal weapon.

 

He grimaced and stabbed beneath Ka'Mundra's sword arm right into Fe'Rulin's thigh. The bouncer grunted, shoving at Ka'Mundra hard enough to send both he and Lance flying back onto the mat.

 

Lance still had both of his blades in his grip, but Ka'Mundra's injured hands could not hold onto his any longer. Lance flipped over him, kicking the broad sword away, avoiding another stab from Fe'Rulin — they fought, nearly tripping over Ka'Mundra, who struggled to get to his sword. But Lance would not let him near it. This was Lance's biggest advantage yet — one disarmed, injured opponent, and another recently wounded. 

 

Both sweat and blood dripped into Lance's eyes, but he kept his gaze focused, blinking away any obstructions, taking no chances or pauses to wipe away the dampness. Fe'Rulin's left leg was drenched in blood, yet he stayed on his feet, unwavering, though he seemed less amused now — not angry, just highly concentrated on Lance's two weapons.

 

Which was a mistake.

 

The next time Fe'Rulin lunged with his spear, Lance rolled backwards — his legs wrapped around the spear, and he used his entire body weight to twist the weapon down. Fe'Rulin would not let go, and so he fell onto his knees to keep his hold on the spear. No matter — it was still close enough for Lance to jab his dagger right at his throat.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance saw Ka'Mundra make another swipe at the sword behind Lance; he lunged with his bayard, the sword tip quivering right over Ka'Mundra's own widened eyes.

 

If either moved, maiming would follow. Possibly death. Lance didn't want to kill them, but he would probably die if this fight went on any longer. He might have no choice.

 

Fe'Rulin's spear was still tangled in Lance's legs, but if he tried to pull it, Lance would slice right into his throat from the motion — his dagger (Keith's dagger) was already drawing blood.

 

He stared hard at Lance, and Lance stared back, working incredibly, painfully hard at keeping his fierce battle expression on, showcasing none of the aching, burning exhaustion, the trembling that threatened to loosen his bone-white grip on his weapons.

 

With a tiny, respectful nod, and a rueful half-smile, Fe'Rulin said, "I yield."

 

Ka'Mundra, with his unblinking eyes, flicked his gaze back and forth between Lance and Fe'Rulin, and then said in a calm tone, "I also yield, Paladin."

 

Throughout this exchange, the audience had been oddly quiet, breaths held. A few seconds after Ka'Mundra's concession, the crowds all but blew the roof off the arena with their frantic screaming. 

 

Lance did not let go of his weapons until the cage door was unlocked, and the medics rushed in for a second time, ushering Ka'Mundra onto a stretcher (which he refused, limping out of the cage under his own power). Fe'Rulin also did not submit to the stretcher, though he did take a staff from the stagehands to use as a cane. Lance would not give up the spear, and Fe'Rulin must have realized that.

 

He grinned at Lance, bowing his head. "You, young one, are too damn good for someone so tiny. Makes me think that the smaller your kind is, the more terrifying they are."

 

Thinking of Pidge, Lance nodded, a smile of his own surfacing. "You wouldn't be wrong."

 

Fe'Rulin laughed, and with one last half bow, he exited the cage.

 

The remaining medics hovered a ways from Lance, hesitating as he still had his dagger and sword raised. With a deep exhale, he retracted his bayard and tucked the dagger against his back once more. That was the cue for the medical professionals to do their duty, all but coating him in gel and shoving him towards the stretcher — but he couldn't do it.

 

Lance had to stand there for a minute, basking in the never-ceasing roaring ovation. 

 

He held up one fist.

 

The crowd waved their fists back at him, hollering his name.

 

And down in the front row, his friends, his family, were staring up at him, beaming — Pidge was there, her stealth turned off, so Lance could see her wide grin. Allura and Coran were both holding the banner high, proudly showcasing it to everyone nearby. Shiro looked energized, his expression undeniably happy. Matt was applauding, pausing to whistle unbelievably loudly every few seconds, and Hunk … Hunk seemed to be a combination of exhausted and thrilled — he was smiling so widely it looked like it hurt, his arms high in the air, fists pumping.

 

Keith was the only one not shouting or clapping his hands; he was currently circling around the guards (who were focused on either helping the medics or shouting along with the masses), his Galra dagger still out. By the time the large goons realized that Keith had managed to get within arm's reach of the cage, he had already leapt inside.

 

He marched right up to Lance, who could only stare at him as Keith grabbed one of Lance's arms, pulling it over his shoulder while he wrapped his own arm around Lance's waist.

 

"C'mon, you stubborn idiot," Keith spoke into Lance's ear. "You need to get inside a healing pod."

 

"I don't disagree, dude, but I can—" Lance went to take a step … and his legs immediately gave out. He struggled to stay on his feet, and thankfully Keith was prepared to take on most of his weight, so he didn't face-plant onto the mat. Once Lance was able to somewhat support himself, with Keith's help, he smiled sheepishly. "I can absolutely accept your kind offer. Lead on, Red."

 

Keith smiled then, easing Lance towards the cage door. "You … were really, really good just now. I might not be able to win our next sparring match."

 

"I don't know, man," Lance said breathlessly as they descended down a ramp that some wonderful stagehand or medic had clearly been using. "I think I'm gonna take a break from any kind of fighting. For, like, a month."

 

"I'll let the Galra Empire know." Keith kept Lance close as they reached the floor of the arena. "We might be able to swing a week off."

 

"Sold." Lance blinked, his vision going spotty. "Hm. Healing pod … might … more urgent …" He coughed, spat, and Keith was letting go,  _why would he do that? …_

 

Except, no, he hadn't let go so much as swept Lance's legs up, cradling him in his arms, and the motion had Lance gagging, his mouth tasting of copper, and even though he felt gross and dead tired and aching … He could still hear the cries of his name. He knew Re'Yulon, Ma'Adda, and Ko'Lin were safe …

 

_Totally worth it._

 

******

 

Shiro might have taken out several guards if not for Allura talking them down, and Matt putting a restraining hand on his shoulder.

 

As it was, Pidge and Hunk barrelled past all of them, uncaring, and Shiro shrugged off Matt's grip to follow them — Allura kept the guards at bay by use of words alone, and Keith had Lance in his arms, his eyes huge in his pale face as he demanded, " _We need to leave, now._ "

 

Coran rushed forward. "I've got one of our small ships out back, hidden thanks to Pidge's latest upgrades."

 

"But I only installed them on …  _Matt."_ Pidge punched her brother in the side. "What did I say about touching my stuff?!"

 

"If you weren't better than me at stealth engines, I wouldn't need to! You weren't around last night to ask, Katie," Matt complained, his eyes glinting with good humour and concern, an odd combination. "Keith, get going with Coran."

 

"I'm coming too," Shiro said immediately. "And I know Hunk—"

 

"Try and stop me." Hunk had appeared at Keith's side, peering down at Lance with an abundance of anxiety. His hands were reaching out to take his pulse, to lift his torn shirt, and Hunk hissed loudly when he saw the bruise that was Lance's worst injury.

 

Shiro's stomach rolled at the sight of the massive, nearly  _black_ mass taking up most of Lance's right side.

 

"Keith!" Hunk put a hand on the smaller Paladin's shoulders. "Do you need me to—"

 

"Got some Galra strength, I'm fine." Keith didn't shrug him off, just jerked his head towards the exit. "Coran—"

 

Coran ran past him, turning to yell, "To me!"

 

Matt held Shiro's hand for a second. "We'll be fine. Allura can kick all their asses, if needed. And Pidge and I have her back. Go!"

 

Shiro did not need any further prompting. The crowds might have made the race to the outside difficult, if not for the fact that Hunk had unleashed his bayard halfway to the exit, and Shiro's Galra arm glowed nonstop. Coran howled like a siren, people all but falling out of his way.

 

They made it to the ship so fast that Shiro nearly had whiplash from all the twists and turns in the hallways. He ended up in the driver's seat, Coran next to him, working with Pidge's stealth systems. Hunk and Keith were in the back with Lance, who had yet to even stir throughout all this commotion.

 

The ride back to the Castle was just as quick, though it didn't feel that way with the profoundly deep well of silence that was an unconscious ( _bleeding, maybe dying_ ) Lance. Shiro gunned it dangerously fast, weaving through air traffic a tad too recklessly, but no one objected, not even Hunk — the Yellow Paladin didn't even react, just kept his focus entirely on Lance.

 

Upon arrival, Coran put Lance on a floating gurney the mice had waiting for them — Lance's eyelids fluttered, his only movement since he'd lost consciousness.

 

They all sprinted to the medical wing, and Coran was the one who took it upon himself to lift Lance from the gurney, holding him so gently it was evident that he was frantic with worry. Shiro slammed the buttons on a pod, and Coran carefully placed Lance inside, still in his torn and grimy fighting clothes. The door was shut, and Coran began keying in instructions with lightning fast presses.

 

A couple of tense minutes stretched on and on, and then Coran let out a huge breath. "Right. He's safe."

 

Hunk gasped loudly, his shoulders sagging as he staggered forward in relief, one hand braced on the glass.

 

"It will be approximately twenty-two vargas before he's fully healed." Coran wiped sweat from his brow, smiling brightly now that all was well. "We can arrange a schedule, as I know you will all be terribly stubborn and insist on keeping an eye on him, despite the half dozen monitoring programs. Who would like first watch?"

 

Shiro watched fondly as Keith opened his mouth and then snapped it shut, as Hunk said, without looking back at any of them, "I got this for a couple of hours. I'll switch out to make some dinner, though?"

 

"Sounds ideal to me!" Coran looked over towards Keith, who had crossed his arms, staring down at his boots.

 

Shiro cleared his throat, drawing Coran's gaze towards him. "I'll take watch after Hunk, and Keith, you can take the next two hours after that?"

 

"Sure," Keith agreed, narrowing his eyes at Shiro. "I'm good with any time, really."

 

Shiro knew, if left to his own devices, Keith would be stationed here all night. Shiro wasn't in any position to judge, really — he would've picked out a gurney, brought a tablet of notes and alliance agreements, and probably stayed up here himself. The schedule was Coran's clever way of ensuring that they all got a decent amount of sleep. No doubt Pidge would want one of the later watches, since she tended to stay up late tinkering anyway. Matt would take a slot because he was swiftly coming to adopt the other Paladins under the same wing he kept his sister.

 

With a nod and an innocent smile, Shiro handed Keith something that had dropped as Coran put Lance in the pod. "Here — good idea, giving this to Lance. It saved his life in that cage." He held out the dagger he'd personally picked out for Keith's birthday a while back. "Makes me extra glad that I gave this to you."

 

Keith took the dagger back swiftly, his cheeks and ears taking on a distinctly pink tinge. "Thanks," he said stiffly. 

 

Hunk sighed, making Keith jump, his hand tightening on his newly reacquired blade. "Keith, man, when Lance wakes up, I think you need to—"

 

"See you in a couple of hours," Keith said abruptly, turning tail and walking out — all but running.

 

"That was … strange," Coran remarked.

 

"That was Keith with a crush," Shiro said, glad to have something  _nice and sweet_ to talk about. "He'll come around. He's not nearly as emotionally repressed as he acts — he's just socially awkward."

 

"Oh yeah, that's obvious," Hunk said with a flutter of his fingers. "When he's not thinking about it, Keith's pretty funny and chill. Then he'll realize that he's doing the ‘human interaction’ thing and freeze up. It's kinda hilarious when it doesn't make me want to hide him, thanks to the second-hand embarrassment."

 

Shiro laughed, glad that even with Keith's long absence, the others still seemed to know him well; also, he was relieved that he wasn't the only one who could read Keith. "That'll play out great when he finally gets the nerve to talk to Lance about this."

 

"Yeah, well, I'm actually a little worried about—" What Hunk’s concern was, Shiro didn't get to hear, as Pidge and Matt burst into the wing, followed closely by Allura, all of them speaking at once, demanding updates.

 

Allura took Shiro aside to confirm that their plans for the next day were still in place, and that they had been confirmed through their outside sources. One of their informants was buried deep inside Ja'Delan's organization — the assistant Governor of Justice had put them in contact with several people who were eager to take Ja'Delan down, but who lacked the resources and unity to do so.

 

With police overworked and understaffed thanks to the Galra Empire purges, they gladly let Allura and Shiro take over this specific investigation.

 

"It will be swift and leave no one vulnerable to retaliation," Allura said, her hands clasped together in front of her chin as she watched Lance's pod readout. "Ah, sometimes the ways in which we aid those in need …" She laughed a little, winking up at Shiro. "Why don't you go take a break while I keep Hunk and Pidge company. I think Matt needed to speak with you about something very important. Top secret, even."

 

Shiro sighed. "Why do I bother keeping secrets from you and those mice?"

 

Allura waved him off. "Oh, do keep trying! It provides entertainment on the slow days."

 

Matt must have been waiting for this cue, as he grabbed Shiro's arm, ushering him out of the room with a cheerful, " _Thank you kindly, princess!"_ called out over his shoulder.

 

All Matt had wanted, apparently, was to force Shiro to sit down and unwind.

 

They spent their evening in relative quiet, Matt pushing Shiro onto one of the common room couches, and going over the latest reports from the Olkari sector. He threw in a few invented “facts,” which prompted Shiro to either nag him until Matt corrected himself, or laugh until Matt laughed along with him.

 

While they all took turns watching over Lance, Shiro actually ended up crashing right after dinner, waking up early in the morning, but much later than he normally did … Because  _someone_ had altered his programmed alarm.

 

As everyone (less Coran and Keith) ate breakfast, Matt claimed innocence in the program alteration, which … might have actually been true, considering the satisfied look on Allura's face, and Pidge's not-so-discreet cough into her fist. Shiro wasn't sure if it had been a combined effort, or a solo mission with the unspoken approval of the others, but Shiro let it go with an eye roll and ruffling of Matt's styled hair.

 

Lance was fully healed by mid-afternoon.

 

They all crowded around the pod, just far enough to allow Coran the space he needed to work. Lance fell out into Coran's arms, the Altean man laying him onto a gurney. It took a hefty amount of willpower on Shiro's part not to reach over and put a hand on Lance's head, shoulder, or on his pulse. He needed a tactile indicator that Lance was okay — that no permanent damage had been done. That he'd made the right decision in letting Lance conquer this trial on his own.

 

Coran gave a thumbs-up, his favourite human gesture. "Ah, it all appears to be in order. Welcome back, Lance." Coran took it upon himself to give Lance his first hug of the day.

 

Hunk swooped in, stealing Lance's second, and Pidge got the third one, closely followed by Allura.

 

Shiro hung back, staring pointedly at Keith, who hadn't moved from his position next to the healing pod. Keith just shook his head, crossing his arms and dropping his gaze to the floor.

 

With a sigh, Shiro moved in, pulling Lance in close as gently as possible, smiling when Lance didn't hesitate to hug back — his grip was strong, unwavering, and when Shiro loosened his hold, it was with considerable relief that he saw no fear or worry in Lance's eyes. He seemed alert, a touch fatigued, but overall …  _whole._

 

"I … can't believe that's over and done." Lance ran a hand through his greasy, blood-caked hair, licking his dry lips nervously. "It just … it felt like it would never end, even though I knew when it would …"

 

"You did it," Shiro confirmed. "You won."

 

"Re'Yulon — did someone go and talk to her, check on them?" Lance asked quickly, his legs swinging out to touch the floor.

 

Shiro helped him stand. Lance found his balance rather swiftly, though he kept a hand on Shiro's arm, perhaps needing a different kind of support.

 

"They're fine. And they're here, actually," Allura told them all, her eyes lingering on Lance, evaluating him closely. She seemed satisfied, her smile becoming more relaxed. "They're here to discuss a few future-related things. I called in some favours with the governors Shiro and I are on good terms with."

 

"Meaning that everything has gone to plan?" Shiro asked, another knot of anxiety loosening in his chest.

 

"Meet us in the dining area in half a varga, and you can all see for yourself," Allura said with an air of mystery. She pulled Lance in for one last hug. "Take the time to shower and make yourself comfortably presentable, Lance. I promise when this is all over, I will find us the best spa in the galaxy."

 

"Oh, I'm gonna hold you to that, princess," Lance said wistfully, one hand coming up to stroke his cheek. "I've been woefully neglectful of my skincare routine, and it is deeply upsetting."

 

Shiro chuckled. "Well, let's make it closer to a varga then, as it gives you more time to prepare."

 

Lance shot him a grateful little grin, and then seemed to notice that Keith was lingering at a distance from the group. "Hey man, what's with the face and the being over there?" Lance held up his arms. "C'mon, don't be a stranger. It's thanks to you that I live to tell the tale of my great victory."

 

Keith walked over, his eyes darting from Lance's arms, to Shiro, and then back again.

 

Lance didn't give Keith a chance to change his mind — as soon as he was within reach, Lance grabbed him and tugged him in. Keith raised his arms up automatically, it looked like, and then hesitated before resting them ever so lightly on Lance's back.

 

Lance released him after a couple of seconds, gazing at him affectionately, his smile amused. "There you go. Thank you, Keith, for kicking my ass."

 

"You already had the basics down," Keith said instantly, shaking his head a little in denial of his contribution. "And you picked up everything else pretty quickly."

 

"Not all that quick," Lance remarked ruefully, flicking his gaze down to his leg — to the calf that had nearly been torn clean off. "I think I'm gonna keep training with you for a while, if that's cool. Though not until  _after_ Allura gets me that ultimate spa day …"

 

"I swear on my honour as a Paladin," Allura said solemnly. Then she began steering people out of the room. "Let's go, everyone! It's rude to leave our guests waiting this long!"

 

Hunk gave Lance another hug before leaving, grabbing Coran to help with  _the hors d'oeuvres, they need to be lightly baked, and we've still got several salads to mix!_ Pidge followed closely behind with Allura and Lance, who smiled as Allura began chatting about how charming Ma'Adda and Ko'Lin were.

 

Matt lingered at the door for a moment, glancing towards Shiro

 

Shiro held Keith back with one hand, and he gave Matt a discreet little nod and smile that he hoped Matt could interpret as  _now is the time._ Matt grinned so widely, so happy and supportive, that Shiro wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms, to press his own smile to that silly grin.

 

But first, he had to speak to Keith — impart a little advice that he hoped would lead to Keith having his own bright spot to hold on to. 

 

"Shiro," Keith started, his voice hoarse from staying awake no doubt most of the night. "Shiro, c'mon—"

 

"I'm just gonna say one thing, and then you can go." Shiro put both his hands on Keith's shoulders. "If Lance hadn't made it … If somehow, Fe'Rulin or Ka'Mundra had … killed him" — Keith blanched, his face going terrifyingly blank — "would you have regretted not saying anything?"

 

"I would have killed them, and I would have felt responsible for Lance's death. My stupid …  _crush_ … wouldn't have mattered," Keith snapped, his voice raspy for an entirely different reason now.

 

"Keith, if you knew he would die tomorrow — would you tell him tonight?" Shiro said softly, switching tracks slightly. "You're always so prepared to sacrifice yourself for the greater good … I think you forget that you're on a  _team_ of people who would do the same — for you or for the universe." Some of them needed to learn that sacrifice shouldn't be the  _first_ option — namely, he and Keith, Shiro was well aware. But all the same, Shiro was proud to be sharing the title of  _Paladin_  with people like Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Keith, and Allura.

 

"Would you say something?" Keith asked, and it sounded a touch confrontational, but also … a little desperate.

 

"I don't know," Shiro admitted, but he smiled soon after. "But I do know that when someone came to me, told me that he regretted not confessing his feelings sooner … That when he thought I was dead, one of his biggest regrets was not taking a chance … I can tell you that I was pretty shocked."

 

Keith stared at him, completely baffled by what Shiro was saying.

 

Shiro knew his smile was becoming goofier the more he spoke. "But I can also tell you that once I had time to let that revelation sink in … I realized that I had feelings for him, too. Maybe not as strong" — _not at first_ — "but powerful enough that I had to take a chance on him in return."

 

Keith opened his mouth, closed it, and then his eyes widened dramatically. " _You and Matt?!"_

 

Shiro laughed loudly, tugging Keith in under one arm. "Yep. Well, sort of. We're … taking it very slow. Maybe a bit faster now, though. I just needed time to sort things out. To be sure that I could handle it. And yeah, it kinda blew my mind?" Shiro's silly grin turned sheepish. "I hadn't thought of Matt that way once. Not even  _once,_ Keith. But he told me how he felt and … I wasn't sure how to respond, which to me, was an indicator that I had to think about it more. If I didn't feel for him that way, the answer would've been 'no' right off the bat, but the fact that I was hesitating …" 

 

Keith looked pensive now — less desperate, less angry. As they walked out of the healing wing, heading towards their rooms, Keith glanced up at Shiro through his bangs. "If Matt makes you happy, then I'm happy for you. And … I think I've noticed that you're a little more relaxed around him then you have been around … me. And Lance. Shiro, I'll say it again — we don't blame you. We're not afraid of you, either. I bet Matt's been telling you this stuff, too."

 

"And I don't blame you for not being around," Shiro said, completely at ease with the sudden topic switch. Once Keith got talking, he tended to blurt out things that were only vaguely tangential to the conversation. Shiro was used to it — and he was glad to hear it again. A too-quiet Keith usually meant that trouble brewed below the surface. "I don't think anyone is at fault, even if it's tough to stop the nightmares that say it's mine."

 

"I get that," Keith said, smiling sadly. "I think Lance has nightmares of his own. But he did the right thing, trying to help the clone. He's a better person than I am."

 

Shiro smiled at the naked tenderness in Keith's voice — the first time his admiration wasn't disguised even a little. "I think you're both amazing, and if Lance feels the same way as you, then you'd both be unstoppable together. But one step at a time."

 

Keith nodded. "I … actually was thinking of saying something. To Lance. I was feeling brave enough before the match started, but after …" He shrugged. "It's like everything went back to normal, and I couldn't get that feeling back … Thanks. For reminding me."

 

Once they reached his room, he pulled away from Shiro, just far enough to wrap him up in a hug. He shook a little, and Shiro held him closely. He'd missed this. Keith was a little brother, a best friend, and a fellow Paladin. But for a while, two of those three titles had felt … out of reach. Damaged. Thankfully, not so much anymore.

 

"See you in an hour. And hey, if you need any excuse to get Lance alone, just send me a signal?  _Hippo_ can be your code word, and I'll know—" Shiro cracked up as Keith groaned, shoving him away hard. 

 

Keith pointed a finger at him, threatening, "You do  _any_ of that, and I swear I will tell Matt about the Drunken Pottery Butt incident. I might even still have pictures on my old Earth phone—"

 

"Okay, okay, geez." Shiro raised his hands, still chuckling.

 

Keith's mouth lifted at the corners, though he seemed to be fighting it. Shiro took a chance, ruffling his hair and then darting away as Keith let out a string of threats and swears — Shiro could hear Keith's fondness beneath the false irritation.

 

He was grinning happily to himself when he palmed open the door to his room, and didn't even flinch when he saw Matt, sitting on a chair, feet up on Shiro's desk. Matt grinned back up at him, and then pointed at his tablet, propped up on the desk surface.

 

"So, I have a list of activities we can consider for our first date, and then I have several more lists containing a selection of terms — i.e., partner, boyfriend, lover, etc. And also pet names — babe, honey, sweetheart, and much,  _much_  worse ones. We have an hour before dinner and politics. Wanna get through some of these with me?"

 

"You can knock  _babe, honey,_  and  _sweetheart_  off the list to start," Shiro said, pulling a second chair out from his closet and sitting with this legs thrown over Matt's lap. "Hit me with those first date suggestions — we're gonna have a week's worth of free time. Could get in more than one date, if you play your cards right."

 

Matt winked. "I do have an excellent poker face now." He cleared his throat and began listing his chosen activities.

 

Shiro felt lighter than ever, considering that only yesterday, he'd been staring into a cage, terrified to lose one of his friends (his  _family_ ) to a no-holds-barred fight club match. This said a lot about how much he'd learned about  _letting things go_ and  _living each moment as if it were the last._

 

He hoped Keith could hold onto his own bravery, to the words of advice Shiro had offered, and learn those same lessons a lot faster than Shiro had.

 

******

 

Lance crushed Ma'Adda and Ko'Lin to his chest, listening to them speak a mile a minute, eager to tell him all about the people in rich, fancy clothes who had come to escort them to the Castle — and Ko'Lin especially had a million questions about how the Castle ship worked, and where Lance slept, and, "Where's the special healing thingie? I scraped my knee playing ball with my friends today — could I use it to make it all better?"

 

Lance sat down at the table, settling the two kids comfortably on either side of him. "I don't think so, kiddo. But I could definitely get you some healing gel and a band-aid. Your knee will be perfectly healed by tomorrow morning, you'll see."

 

Re'Yulon smiled at him from across the dining room table, and Lance grinned back.

 

He'd felt like a new person after his shower and skincare routine. It wasn't just being clean — it was the sensation of washing away every last bit of anxiety, every lingering doubt about his choices and the consequences of them. Even being successful, he'd hated himself for the fear in Hunk's eyes, the ramrod straight tension of Keith's spine, and the deep well of concern that had all but drowned Shiro. Pidge had been forced to creep and crawl around a major crime boss's lair, and now Allura had extra work after all that time she, Coran, and Shiro had put into diplomacy … But if it meant that this family was safe? It had all been worth it.

 

And Lance … He had won five straight matches, some of them with odds deliberately and unfairly stacked against him. He felt  _right_ in basking in those victories now. Because he had  _totally kicked ass._

 

Allura wasn't at the dinner table yet, apparently still in talks with a few Ga'Ulin governors. Shiro and Coran were missing, too, and it surprised Lance when Matt showed up without their leader. He answered Lance's unspoken question as he took a seat next to Ma'Adda (who stared up at him, curious, her head tilted to one side).

 

"Shiro's helping Allura out. They should be here any minute." Matt held up his tablet to Ma'Adda. "Wanna see a cool game I made? You get to design your character and explore unknown space!"

 

Ma'Adda nodded eagerly, and Ko'Lin climbed onto Lance's lap to get a closer look.

 

Hunk wandered in, holding a tray of his famous hors d'oeuvres. "Okay, Coran and I whipped these up before he had to go do the diplomat thing. They should be eaten while they're warm, so please, enjoy!"

 

Lance happily took a small pastry, stuffed with a meat he had never asked about, didn't want to know its origin since it tasted so  _good._

 

Keith wandered in as Lance encouraged Ma'Adda and Ko'Lin to try the food.

 

"Hey, Keith, quick, before I eat these all by myself," Lance called.

 

Keith smiled at the kids, who waved at him enthusiastically, and grabbed one pastry for himself. He took a seat next to Ko'Lin, who had climbed off Lance's lap to reclaim his chair. Keith looked like he wanted to say something, but right then, Allura entered, closely followed by a couple of Ga'Ulin Lance didn't recognize, and then …  _To'Edrun? Ar'Lun? Fe'Rulin?!_

 

"What the …" Lance stood up automatically, speedily despite the heaviness of his favourite jacket. He took a second to smile at Ar'Lun and To'Edrun, but couldn't help the way his eyes narrowed at Fe'Rulin. He barely registered the fact that Keith had jumped to his feet, and taken it one step further by yanking out his Blade of Marmora dagger. Lance didn't dare take his eyes off Fe'Rulin, but he felt Hunk close by — he must have immediately rushed over. 

 

Allura held up her hands. "Everyone, please, calm down. This is Assistant Governor of Justice Pr'Ithya, and Assistant Governor of Order, Eu'Thorn." The two women bowed, taking seats as Allura guided them to the table. "Of course, you know Ar'Lun, To'Edrun, and Fe'Rulin. They're here because they've agreed to help us dismantle Ja'Delan's enterprise." Allura smiled at Re'Yulon. "And we were hoping you'd aid us as well."

 

Lance stared as Allura took her place at the head of the table, Coran and Shiro on either side of her. Ar'Lun, To'Edrun, and Fe'Rulin each took up empty seats nearby. They all sat, which had Lance and Keith finally relaxing just enough to do the same. Lance appreciated that Keith had his dagger nearby.

 

Allura explained the negotiations, and the two assistant governors jumped in with plenty of jargon and political spin.

 

To'Edrun, thankfully, summed it up by saying, "We have support within and without to destroy Ja'Delan, and we can do so with minimal bloodshed. No innocents should be harmed, if we all keep our word."

 

Fe'Rulin put his hands flat on the table, staring at Lance. "I've been feeding the governors information for a long time now — though they didn't know it was me." He grinned then, showing off his sharp canines. "I'm not one to take a leap unless I know there's a sure landing. I decided to reveal myself after you defeated me and Ka'Mundra. I took it as a sign that Ja'Delan's time had finally come to an end."

 

Lance's mouth had been open for a while, and he closed it now to nod at Fe'Rulin, accepting his words.

 

Allura also nodded at Fe'Rulin, picking up the conversation again. "Fe'Rulin has told us which members of the government have been supporting Ja'Delan, either as patrons or as blackmail victims. We can have them all detained, so that Ja'Delan loses his upper level support. As for the remaining police force and officials, we will provide them with some of Pidge's latest stealth gear. And we will also support them during the most dangerous operations — taking out Ja'Delan's assassin network — before we leave. It's a way to get the Head Governors and Ministers  _finally_ moving on the criminal front, and it's a way of ensuring that you, Re'Yulon, face no difficulties after we're gone."

 

Re'Yulon looked grateful beyond measure, but there was also a hint of viciousness to her smile. "Princess, I am eager to help in whatever way I can."

 

Allura clapped her hands. "Oh, excellent! But before we continue to work out the details, I would like to propose a toast! It's a human custom, and I find it a wonderful tradition." She held up her drink, and everyone else followed suit. "To our dear and brave Paladin Lance! Without him, a family would not have been saved, and a major criminal enterprise would not be on the verge of crumbling!"

 

"To Lance!" Hunk called out happily and proudly.

 

"To Lance!" Everyone else echoed.

 

Lance, for his part, blushed a startling amount — he felt proud of himself, giddy with the thought of telling this story to his family back on Earth, but also oddly uncomfortable, since he didn't think this was one of his _better_ choices, nor entirely selfless.

 

However, Ma'Adda and Ko'Lin were both beaming, and Re'Yulon was raising her glass to him with one hand over her heart … And so Lance just smiled back and stayed quiet, silently glowing in the face of all the appreciation and affection turned towards him.

 

By the time the talks were over, dinner was eaten, and certain plans were set in motion.

 

Lance was ready to sleep again — even spending twenty-odd hours in a healing pod hadn't quite made up for all the stress and hard work of the past few days. He stretched as he stood up, shook hands with everyone — even Fe'Rulin — and resolved to stay up just long enough to get back in the habit of his nightly skincare regimen.

 

As everyone filed out of the dining hall, Keith stopped him with one hand on his chest. "Hold on, I … need to … ask … or no, just tell you … a thing. It's not important, but I need to …" 

 

It was odd to see Keith flounder like this. Lance had a few jokes on the tip of his tongue, and he grinned, ready to drop a fabulous one-liner … But something about the look in Keith's eyes stopped him. He didn't know what could get Keith to look  _like that,_ but Lance slipped into the "right hand man" mindset almost with no effort. He resolved to hear Keith out and wait until he was done to offer up his opinion.

 

Shiro patted Keith on the back once as he walked away, and Matt shot Keith two thumbs up, which had Keith blushing madly. Even Hunk seemed to be in the know, and all this did was make Lance a bit … nervous. A tad uncertain. Pidge was rolling her eyes, but also smiling.

 

This was officially freaky.

 

Lance was distracted momentarily by Re'Yulon walking past him. He grabbed at her arm before she could leave, remembering why his jacket weighed on him very heavily. Ma'Adda and Ko'Lin had skipped ahead, Hunk swinging them on his arms once they caught up to him.

 

"Re'Yulon, hold on, I need to give you something," Lance said. She waited as he reached into his pockets and pulled out four jam-packed coin bags. "My friends collected my winnings for me. And really, they're yours. I was filling in for you, after all."

 

Re'Yulon stared at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners as a huge smile slowly took over her face. She accepted two of the four bags, pushing a pair back towards him. "Paladin Lance, you've earned yourself a reward. I demand you take some of the coin. You can be certain that I will be taking care of my family with this. I might not ever have to fight again …" She stopped, evidently struggling for words, her eyes filling with tears.

 

"Hey, please, just, take all of it. Taking care of your family is always first priority." Lance offered her the bags again.

 

She considered it for a moment, then took one more, but she wouldn't let him push the last bag towards her.

 

"This is more than enough. If you don't wish to use it for yourself, then use the money for our efforts against Ja'Delan," she requested. Her gaze grew soft and affectionate. "Though please consider treating yourself to something purely for your happiness. Thank you, Lance."

 

She hugged him close, and he hugged her back, closing his eyes against a few tears of his own.

 

Re'Yulon left with Allura, who was beaming at Lance with so much pride that he had to look away, shuffling his feet self-consciously.

 

"You're a hero," Keith said quietly with a proud little smile.

 

Lance scoffed, but said nothing, struggling to keep his emotions at bay. Keith went right back to being visibly nervous over what he had to tell Lance, and that helped Lance focus on what was coming — even though he had  _no idea_ what this could possibly be about.

 

Keith waited until Allura, (who had been grinning broadly at both of them), shut the dining room doors, before he said, "This is not … It's nothing bad. I don't think it's anything bad. It's just … awkward. So. I'm sorry. Ahead of time."

 

Lance leaned back against the table, his arms spread out. "Dude. I'm your friend. Just tell me. The others seem to be in the know. So I guess it's my turn to find out? Or … does this have something to do with me?" Out of nowhere, a random idea jumped to the forefront of Lance's thoughts, and it had him panicking. "Wait. I don't want to pilot the Black Lion!"

 

Keith did a double-take, his eyebrows shooting up into his bangs. "What … what even—"

 

"I get that I'm a better Paladin now. I've got more kick-ass skills, more self-confidence, or maybe the better kind of self-confidence?" Lance rambled off. "But the kind of stress that comes with being a leader … I've had a small taste of that, when we were working to take Shiro Clone down, and then, before you came back full time from the Blades, and while Real Shiro was still recovering … Allura and I were trading off leading missions, and it just … I can do it, if we need to. I mean, I wouldn't turn it down if we absolutely had to, but I'm not cut out for that, long-term, at least, not yet, no—"

 

"I am not asking you to lead us," Keith interrupted him, his hands coming up to stem the tide of words. "You  _could_  do it, Lance. But that's not what I'm trying to say."

 

"Oh." Lance calmed a little, but he found his anxiety hadn't quite settled. "Then … It seemed like something good. Everyone was smiling at you, and Matt with the thumbs up seemed a bit — hey, did you know that he and Shiro are a  _thing_ now?"

 

"I … yeah. I just … Shiro just told me, today." Keith paused. "Is that … Do you think it's a good idea?"

 

"Keith, any bit of happiness Shiro can get is a good thing," Lance said with all certainty. "That guy deserves all the good things, in fact. And I'm not just saying that as someone who idolizes him — I've seen behind the mask by this point, so I'm saying this as his friend. Damn, he's more than earned this, if this is something to be earned. Which, it's not. People should … just be allowed to be happy." Lance grinned. "I'm personally looking for my happiness in all the beautiful alien gals we encounter."

 

"Right." Keith winced a little. "And … alien dudes?"

 

Lance blinked. "Oh … Um. No?" He thought about it for a moment. "Well, actually, there's been one or two aliens where I couldn't quite tell … Maybe? Mostly looking at girls, though."

 

He shrugged, and then a second idea occurred to him; Lance was pretty sure he was right about this one. "Oh … Oh,  _Keith._ Hey, man, that's totally cool. I get it — but really, there's so few places on Earth where this is an issue anymore, and I'm definitely from one of the places where it's very much not. I'm totally happy for Shiro and Matt, and if you're into dudes or girls or both, or  _neither_ , I'm all for it. Make your happy wherever."

 

Keith didn't seem any more relaxed. In fact, he looked like he was facing some kind of terrible punishment — though he appeared to be facing it with his usual grim determination. He straightened his back and shoulders, staring at Lance directly in the eyes.

 

"And if … if I'm into … a specific dude. Like, one on this Castle?"

 

It didn't take Lance more than a moment to figure it out.

 

Keith was staring at him too intently, his jaw clenched, his face turning red in some spots, and Lance …

 

Lance's first reaction was to reel back in shock. Then to open his mouth and say …  _nothing._ He was too busy staring at Keith, wondering how the hell this was happening.  _When_ did this happen?  _Why_ was Keith … But then again, Lance was a romantic at heart — he knew people couldn't control who they felt attracted to, who they fell for … And so the  _why_  wasn't really an issue so much as … 

 

 _How_ did _Lance_ feel?

 

Keith was his friend. He used to be his rival. He used to be a name at the top of score sheets, this mullet who sat in the back of the class and made Lance want to throw crap at him for his indifferent _too cool for school_ attitude. The journey from  _then_  to  _now_  had been pretty rocky, but also awesome in ways. But Lance didn't … He hadn’t ever even _thought_ about _this._

 

"I … Wow. Keith. Really?" Lance's voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "Holy crow. I'm … Wow."

 

"Okay," Keith said hastily, his hand coming up to cover his eyes, to drag through his hair. "Just. Never mind. I said it, and now, it's done. You don't need to—"

 

"Hey, hey," Lance protested, reaching out and grabbing Keith's arm before he could bolt. "I need some time to think about this, okay? I'm … Not used to people just admitting they like me. I do the chasing. All the time. It's pretty much always been that way. I …" Lance swallowed, his mouth dry as Keith watched him stutter, and there was the tiniest flicker of hope in those dark eyes. "I'm also really into girls, like, a lot. But that's not … set in stone, or anything. Grew up watching lots of old movies, especially action flicks, and Indiana Jones was, you know … Both my hero and my guy crush?"

 

He felt himself going red, matching Keith. "But gimme time to think about it? This isn't a rejection, just a … 'hold on, still loading'?"

 

Keith let out a long, slow breath. "I get … Indiana Jones. I kinda … always had a thing for Han Solo. And James Kirk." Keith smirked, his stance relaxing. "Basically, all the charming jerks."

 

"Hey," Lance objected, and he shoved at Keith playfully. "Watch it, all those charming jerks were also incredibly dangerous."

 

"Oh, I know," Keith said in a sly tone, and was he …  _Holy crap, Keith was flirting._ "I've seen your cage fights. When I wasn't calculating all the ways to get you out, panicking about all the ways you could lose a limb … You were nice to watch.”

 

Lance's eyes widened as Keith turned to leave. He jogged to catch up. "Wait, which part of me was nice to watch? Or was it all of me? And since when did this happen? I mean—"

 

"Thanks for … not embarrassing me, or anything," Keith said, smiling still, cutting Lance off. "I'm gonna need a little time, too, I think. But whenever you're ready with an answer, you know where to find me." 

 

He walked away without turning back. Lance let him go, respecting Keith's need for space. 

 

"So, do you have a boyfriend now?"

 

Lance may or may not have shrieked, clutching at his heart. He whirled around to face Hunk, who was laughing uproariously at him. "Not cool, dude! Not cool! And no, I do not, at the moment, have a boyfriend — what kind of best friend are you, not telling me about this?!"

 

"It wasn't my thing to tell, man," Hunk said, throwing an arm around Lance's shoulders, pulling him in the opposite direction of Keith. "I keep things on the down low. You know,  _like I did your cage fighting career._ "

 

"You blurted it out to Keith at the first opportunity, you liar," Lance argued. "Do not even try with that."

 

"Lance, Keith had totally caught us. You may have noticed that I didn't run and cry to Shiro, even  _when you nearly got your leg torn off._ " Hunk grimaced for half a second, then went right back to happily teasing Lance. "So, are you into dudes? Into Keith, specifically? I think it would be pretty cute, though not as cute as Matt and Shiro, wow, did you know about that? I just saw them go off holding hands towards Matt's lab, so I would steer clear for—"

 

"Excuse you, but any couple that has me as one half of it? Totally gonna be the cutest couple there is. And have you seen Keith?" Lance blew a raspberry at Hunk. "Like, duh, even with the mullet …" Lance trailed off, his brain rewinding what he'd just said. "Damn. Okay, well, there's one thing taken care of."

 

"Yay, you do find him attractive!" Hunk pumped one fist in the air, but he settled down quickly. "Look, I get that you probably need time. I'm here, you know, to listen and help you sort it out. We can do charts, or pro/con lists, or you can just rant at the air while I nod along until you actually ask for my opinion … Whatever works. Or, I can just leave you alone? Whatever it is you need."

 

Lance stopped on the way to his room, pulling Hunk to a halt as well. "Hunk? You are the best. Seriously. The best friend, the best cook, the best wingman I could imagine. And I'm sorry for everything I put you through this week. Especially the part where I asked you to keep quiet."

 

"Yeah, well, it's all part of the best friend package," Hunk said sagely. Then he smiled, small and tender. "Lance, I will never be good with you in danger like that — the kind of danger I can't step in and defend you from or get help for. But I will always be proud when you put yourself on the line for others. You are a champion. Even if you hadn't won that last match, you still would've been a champion." He pulled something out of his vest pocket, handing it over. "I picked this up for you. I think your brothers back home are totally gonna have a hard time believing this story, so here's some proof."

 

Lance opened up the folded up page to find a poster of himself, poised in the cage with his fists in the air — he was bloody, bruised, and beaming, the crowd a bit blurry, but clearly on their feet in the background.

 

Lance stared. And then he glanced up at Hunk. "Do you think if I went to sign a couple of these, Allura would be mad?" After all, they still did occasionally do fan events for Voltron — this was _sort of_ like that.

 

Hunk laughed. "Nah, man, I think that's really cool! Make sure you sign some for Ma'Adda and Ko'Lin — they'll be the most popular kids in their school." Hunk yanked him into a hug. "Thank you for surviving. But please avoid fight clubs for the foreseeable future."

 

"Hunk? I will not be joining any fight clubs for the foreseeable _and_ unforeseeable future,” Lance promised. "Also, in thanks for putting up with me, I owe you at least three months of Brunch-Do."

 

"I … am not going to turn that down. Did I mention that you nearly lost a leg, and I nearly lost a hand when Keith had his knife out?" Hunk leaned back just far enough to grin down at Lance, and to pull off an eyebrow waggle that did Lance proud. "Hey, if we're doing a pro/con list, can I add 'Keith can help Hunk keep Lance in one piece' down on the pro side?"

 

Lance rolled his eyes, but he didn't object.

 

In fact, something in him was bubbling up, giddy, happy, confident.

 

These past five days had been jam-packed with poor decision making, good choices, bad and great ideas, self-doubt, anxiety, worry for  _others'_ anxieties, terror …

 

Now, Lance had discovered what he could take away from it all: he was a Paladin, tried and true. His friends and family, they were all awesome people, who had just as many flaws and worries as he did, and that didn't make them any lessawesome. And he could be amazing on his own, without them if he had to, but he would always prefer to fight with them at his side.

 

(And maybe, just maybe, he could have Keith at his side in a different way — a strange, new world to explore. He'd have to sit down with Hunk and talk it out. Maybe with Pidge, too. They were his best friends, and he'd learned, the hard way, that keeping them in the dark was a futile effort. In fact, his entire Voltron family were the kind of support system he'd be ridiculous to turn away. He'd won this championship because he'd had them at his side, and he was incredibly grateful that they'd respected his choice. He was thankful, deep down to his core, that he got to have these people cheering him on. He missed his Earth family every day, without question, but this new space family … He couldn't imagine life without them now. And after living through these brutal matches, Lance felt like he — like  _they_  —could do  _anything_.

 

The Galra Empire were already defeated. They just didn't know it yet.)

 

******

_Fin_

******

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't written as fast as I would've liked, yet it still felt too fast? Man, I am sorry for making y'all wait, but endings are really tough on me. I'm not convinced this makes sense, but the whole point of this exercise was just to write without much of a plan and see where it took me :) 
> 
> If anyone has made it to the end, I really hope you enjoy where this story ended up, and I thank you so much much for making it this far! Come on over to [my Tumblr](http://thisgirlhastales.tumblr.com/) if you wish for more writings/ramblings :) Again, so many thanks to everyone who has read this, and to those of you who have been so encouraging! *all the hugs*


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